


Snapshots of a Lima Summer

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [65]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last summer in Lima; two months is all they get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

Kurt wakes up his favorite way, which doesn’t happen most days—a warm, heavy Finn-blanket draped over most of him, Puck pressed against his side, and a finger running down his nose. Kurt wrinkles his nose and starts to smile, still keeping his eyes closed. “Good morning.”

“Happy birthday, blue eyes.”

“You’re trapped here forever,” Finn announces, nuzzling his face in Kurt’s hair. “We have terrible birthday plans for you.”

“Terrible?” Kurt says, slowly opening his eyes and grinning more broadly. “That sounds promising, actually.”

“First I’m gonna make breakfast, though,” Finn says. “Puck can be terrible to you while I go and do that, ok?”

“My life is very difficult,” Kurt deadpans. 

“And you’re a whole year older than both of us, for a week,” Puck says, grinning. “Or, well, you sound older.”

“You’re, like, our sugardaddy,” Finn says. “Ok, breakfast. I’ll shout if I damage anything!” He kisses Kurt along his jaw and neck before sliding off of him and standing up, pulling on his pajama pants. 

“That’s me. A benevolent patron,” Kurt agrees, sighing slightly. As Finn heads down the stairs, Kurt turns to Puck. “We should probably be worried about potential damage.”

“K, Burt checks the smoke detectors every month now that Carole’s pregnant. We’ll know about potential damage before Finn at the rate Burt’s going. I’m surprised the whole house isn’t wired to predict incidents before they happen or something.”

Kurt giggles. “I think it’s more like weekly. And let’s not forget the air conditioning filters.”

Only a few more minutes pass before Kurt hears some swearing along with the banging that’s been going on more or less since Finn left the bedroom. Another few minutes after that, Finn appears in the doorway, looking flustered, his hair even wilder than when he went downstairs. He seems to be splattered in some kind of batter.

“Uh, Puck?” Finn asks, a little too calmly. “Could you join me in the kitchen, please?”

“Sure,” Puck says, sliding out of bed. “Let me just grab my cravat.”

“I’ll just be up here, all alone,” Kurt sighs as both of them go back down the stairs. He decides to throw their clothes in the laundry and then climbs back into his bed, mostly because it’s a Tuesday, it’s his birthday, and he can. 

It’s probably ten more minutes before he hears Finn and Puck padding back up the stairs, and he sits up, leaning against the headboard. 

“Put on your crown!” Finn shouts from the hallway. 

“Which one?” Kurt asks. “Junior queen or senior king?”

“Whichever one makes you feel the most like bossofus.”

“Oh, I don’t need a crown for that,” Kurt murmurs to himself, but he gets up and picks up the king crown, mainly because it stays in place better, then gets back in bed. “Okay,” he calls.

Finn reappears in the doorway, carrying a tray dominated by a huge pile of bacon. “I have birthday breakfast!”

“That is quite a large amount of birthday bacon,” Kurt says as Finn steps toward the bed, Puck trailing behind him with more coffee. 

“There’s waffles, too, but Puck fixed those.” Finn sets the tray down in front of Kurt and points to the mug in the corner, almost hidden by the bacon pile. “Your coffee’s there.”

Kurt would ask what, exactly, about the waffles needed fixed, but since they look relatively normal, he decides to skip that question, just picking up his mug of coffee and taking a sip. “Thank you, my loves.”

“But no syrup,” Puck teases, sitting down on one side of Kurt. “Powdered sugar and fruit only, because we were pretty sure you didn’t want to wash your sheets as a birthday activity.”

“Or if you did, not because of _syrup_ , anyway,” Finn adds. 

“You are both correct.” Kurt picks up a piece of bacon and starts to eat it. “Any other terrible, horrible plans for me?”

“Yep. First you eat your breakfast, and then we’re gonna eat you,” Finn says. “It’ll be terrible. Probably there’s gonna be some begging for mercy.”

“We thought we’d alternate activities for the day,” Puck explains. “Eating. Fucking. More eating. Maybe a nice shower.”

“There might be some nice-smelling bath stuff,” Finn says. “Somebody might have asked Tina what the best smell to order was and somebody might have ordered some bath melty thingies.”

Kurt giggles. “We should go use the tub in the master bathroom. No one ever uses it, but it’s so much bigger.”

“Someday I’m gonna own a place with a giant-ass bathtub. It’ll be big enough that I could lie down in it,” Finn says, somewhat whimsically. “Maybe even big enough for me plus another person or two.”

“Custom-ordered bathtub,” Kurt says. 

“There’s a goal to strive for, anyway,” Puck agrees. “But for today, yes. We should use their tub.”

“You should probably leave the crown on all day,” Finn suggests. “Or switch them out and wear a few of them.”

“But only one at once,” Puck quips. “More than one and it’s just too much.”

“Oh, definitely.” Kurt nods solemnly. “Only one crown at a time. And possibly not while in the tub or shower, if that’s okay with both of you.”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Finn says. “You can put it right back on after.”

“Now you know what to get me next year. A waterproof crown.”

“Mermaid crown. With shells and pearls,” Finn says, in a tone that suggests he’s thinking it aloud without realizing it. 

“That probably would look better than neoprene, yes.”

“Scuba-diving suit and crown,” Puck jokes. “Nothing says happy birthday like an oxygen tank.”

“Nothing says happy birthday like a plate full of bacon and waffles followed by a blowjob,” Finn says. “So eat your breakfast.”


	2. Snapshots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The places they go and the things they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a [downloadable soundtrack](http://storyof3boys.livejournal.com/85717.html) for this, because we make them compulsively. We can't help it.

Puck is almost done for the day, just twenty more minutes on the clock, when Rachel comes trotting into the Starbucks. “Hello, Casey! And Noah. Just who I hoped to see.” She smiles brightly at him. “What are you and Kurt doing this afternoon and evening?”

It’s a trick question, Puck decides, because whatever he tells her, he’s pretty sure she’ll have a reason they should not do that, and do what she has in mind, instead. They don’t precisely have plans, either, at least not the kind that Puck can share. “Being home by the time Finn finishes his workout” is probably an odd response. 

“Nothing specific,” Puck finally answers. 

“Excellent!” Rachel’s smile grows wider. “Why don’t the two of you meet me after you and Kurt are both done working?” Her face looks a little pinched at the end of the sentence. “Let’s meet in front of Elder-Beerman at, say, 5? And we can have dinner after we shop!”

“Uh.” Puck considers protesting that he and Kurt aren’t buying things in Lima that they’ll have to drive to New York, if it’s that kind of shopping, and if it’s Kurt’s kind of shopping, he’s not sure why he needs to be there, but ultimately he decides it’s probably easier to go along with it, in hopes that she won’t pull this kind of thing again for the rest of the summer. “Yeah, okay. Did you want a drink right now?”

“Yes! I’d like one of those new Refreshers, please. The Very Berry flavor.” She giggles, like she’s said something particularly clever. 

“We’re all out of that flavor,” Casey pipes up. “So sorry.”

“It’s true,” Puck manages. “Cool Lime?” After Rachel pouts and then nods, he quickly gives her the drink and waits until she’s out the door to laugh. “Good thing she didn’t notice the pitcher sitting right there.”

Casey makes a serious face and puts his fist in the air. “Team Finn,” he says. Puck tilts his head and then realizes that yeah, definitely picking up Kurt’s mannerisms. He keeps looking at Casey, though, trying to decipher the exact meaning. 

“What?” Casey asks. “Brittany told me. She says she’s on Team Finn, too, because Team Rachel doesn’t allow cheese.”

“That’s… true, actually,” Puck nods. “No cheese for vegans.” He glances up at the clock and grins. “And now I’m done for the day. Well, done until Rachel’s shopping expedition, but I don’t get paid for that.”

“Too bad. You probably should.” Casey shrugs. “Have a good rest of your day. Tell Kurt and Finn hi.”

“Definitely should,” Puck agrees. “Will do.” Puck makes himself an Americano and heads out as Casey’s taking another order. He stops when he gets into the Nav to text Kurt and let him know about their new afternoon plans. Puck has to laugh at Kurt’s response. 

_Preemptive strike. Yes. Very well. If we’re lucky we can shake her by 7:30_

When the two of them get to the mall at 5:25, though, Rachel’s already there, looking even more excited, and she squeals a little when she sees them. 

“What is it?” Kurt asks her. 

“It’s just so nice to see the two of you, being all...” She gestures at their joined hands. “You know.”

Puck exchanges a glance with Kurt, who shrugs. “Yeah, well.” Puck looks at Rachel. “So what are we doing, exactly?”

“I wanted your advice, of course,” Rachel says, opening the door and walking inside. “As the only other people in Lima who can understand the rigors of walking in New York City, I was hoping to get your input into shoes that will be stylish, professional, _and_ supportive.”

Puck was right. This is definitely not his kind of shopping, if any type of shopping can be called his type of shopping. Watching Kurt shopping is fun; watching Kurt be exasperated by Rachel probably won’t be. 

“Rachel,” Kurt begins. “I don’t know that you’re going to find what you’re looking for within the confines of Lima’s limited shopping, but I suppose we can make an attempt at it.”

“Why not just get those insoles?” Puck can’t help but ask, because Rachel and Kurt generally seem to have vastly different ideas of what constitutes ‘stylish’. 

“Oh, don’t be silly, Noah!” Rachel laughs. “I’m sure you’re not just going to put insoles in your shoes.”

“No,” Puck agrees. “But mine are already pretty comfortable to walk in.” Actually, it seems pretty dumb to buy shoes that _aren’t_ comfortable to walk in. Even Kurt’s fancy shoes are relatively comfortable, or otherwise he’d have blisters and shit. 

“Well, not everyone can carry off such simple style choices.”

“Yeah, not everyone can limp and still look ridiculous,” Puck snaps back, still smiling. 

“Nice,” Kurt says under his breath, clearly trying not to laugh. Rachel just sniffs and tosses her head, and they walk in silence to the shoe section. 

Rachel heads directly towards a display of penny loafers and similar styles, picking up a brown shoe. “What about these?”

 

Karofsky’s truck is in the lot outside, but when Finn passes the weight room, he doesn’t hear anybody else in there or see anyone moving around. Maybe Karofsky left his truck and rode somewhere with someone else. Finn goes into the locker room and changes into his workout clothes, and then heads into the weight room. 

He actually starts his first set of reps before he notices the two of them over on the bench. Karofsky’s sitting, leaning back against the wall with his chin resting on his chest and his eyes closed, and Casey’s half sprawled along the bench, his head on Karofsky’s knee, sound asleep, with one of Karofsky’s hands resting on his shoulder. Finn wonders how long they’ve been there; they look like they’ve been there for a while, honestly, as sacked out as Casey seems to be. 

Since the noise of him moving weights around doesn’t seem to bother them, Finn goes ahead and does his workout as quietly and quickly as possible. When he’s finished his workout, Casey and Karofsky still haven’t moved and don’t seem even remotely aware that Finn’s in the weight room – or that _they’re_ in the weight room. 

Finn hadn’t asked Karofsky how Casey was handling the move, because it seems like one of those things Karofsky doesn’t want to talk about unless he’s the one who brings it up, but the little scene Finn stumbled upon paints a pretty telling picture. Finn would guess “not well” is how it’s going. He remembers the hard time Kurt had sleeping after having Puck there for so long, and then suddenly not having him there; Karofsky and Casey are probably having a similar experience.

Unlike Kurt and Puck, though, Casey and Karofsky aren’t going to have an easy resolution to that. Or, Finn realizes, a resolution at all, since Karofsky’s leaving in less than two weeks. Either way, the two of them completely dead to the world on a bench in the weight room is kind of sweet and sad, and Finn wishes for their sake that the two of them had more time together to get stuff straightened out. 

Then again, Finn wishes for his own sake that _he_ had more time to get stuff straightened out. He’s only got about another month after Karofsky leaves before he’s going to be packing up his stuff and heading for Wisconsin, and there’s not an easy resolution to that, either.

 

Getting up early for Pride, Kurt thinks, isn’t really a hardship. Having everyone in the house ready to leave and being stuck waiting, however, is something Kurt would have rather avoided. Unfortunately, when most of PFLAG started making plans to go to Pride, Tina voluntold Kurt that he would be driving her, Mike, and Sam. Before Kurt could stop it, Rachel claimed the last available seat in the Nav, citing a desire not to attend with her dads for at least one year. 

Which is why Kurt is standing in the kitchen with his second cup of coffee, grinning amusedly at the expression on Finn’s face. 

“Aren’t those gonna, like, _chafe_ or something?” Finn asks Puck. 

“People buy stuff off the site to wear to clubs, asshole,” Puck fires back. “Pretty sure if they were going to chafe, there’d be negative reviews.”

“Bet we’re gonna do more walking today than you’d do at a club, asshole,” Finn retorts. “But have fun with that. You’ll be the shiniest one there, anyway.”

“Less dancing.” Puck shrugs. 

“You’re both ridiculous,” Kurt proclaims after a moment. “How much yelling will they do if we leave without them?”

“We wouldn’t be able to hear them from Columbus,” Finn says. “So… let’s do that!”

Kurt is on the verge of quietly leaving the house—quietly only because both Burt and Carole are still, ostensibly, asleep—when Tina’s car pulls up to the curb, and she climbs out, Mike and Sam close behind her. Before they can all fit into the Nav, Rachel arrives as well, and Kurt sighs. 

If he has to watch Rachel attempt to get Finn back _again_ , he’s not going to be held responsible for his actions. 

“This is so exciting!” Rachel gushes. “I even have my rainbow-striped over-the-knee socks!” A quick glance confirms that, yes, Rachel has paired said socks with a purple minidress for the day’s excursion. 

“Dude.” Sam stops suddenly. “Puck. Those are…”

“What?” Kurt looks over at Puck just in time to see Puck pull his best dumb innocent face. “What are what?”

“Your, uh. Shorts?” Sam says, as if he’s not sure he has the correct term. 

“Those shorts,” Finn mutters. “Seriously. Those shorts.”

Puck grins. “You don’t like them?” he asks, and it’s not entirely clear who he’s addressing. 

“So festive,” Finn answers. “Festive shorts, those shorts.”

“Very festive,” Kurt agrees, grabbing Puck’s hand and pulling him towards the Nav. “However, we’re going to be late for the festiv _ities_ if we don’t leave soon.”

“Aren’t you burning up?” Tina asks Finn as they all climb into the Nav. 

“Nope.” Finn grins. “Perfectly comfortable.” 

“You _are_ wearing two shirts,” Kurt notes. “Did you and I get confused again? Mark today on the calendar, too, Puck. Finn wore more layers than I did.”

“I know what I’m doing. I’m like a shirt professional or something, dude, seriously,” Finn says. “It’s all designed or whatever.”

Kurt exchanges a grin with Puck. “Again, mark the calendar,” is all Kurt says in response. 

“Apparently it happens once every four or five months,” Puck replies. “So November, better watch out again.”

“I’ll impress you with all my layers at Thanksgiving,” Finn promises. “You’ll see. I’ll have, like, eighteen layers by then.”

“You’ll be like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man,” Puck says, grinning. 

“By the way, dude,” Finn says. “If someone asks you if you’re a god? Say yes.”

 

“Hudson!” Brown says, sounding upbeat as he answers the phone. “What can I do for you?”

Finn sighs. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Hey, Brown. I just have a quick question for you. It’s kind of, uh. Unusual.”

“Unusual, huh?” Brown laughs. “Yeah, that’s why most people call me. What is it?”

“I need some advice about crêpe paper,” Finn confesses. 

Brown laughs again. “Crêpe paper! Okay, what kind of advice.” He sounds a little too pleased to be asked. “What’s the crêpe paper for?”

“Puck and Kurt’s birthday. It’s a rainbow–themed birthday. Just… seriously, don’t ask,” Finn says. “But I can’t make the crêpe paper look right. I’m trying to do rainbow, but it doesn’t look how a rainbow should look.”

“They have the same birthday? That is just too much.” Brown sounds amused. “But what you need to do, Hudson, is get two colors of blue.”

“No, they don’t have the same— two blues?”

“Yeah, one of the rolls that’s the lighter blue, and one of the darker ones. It’ll transition into the purple better that way.”

“Seriously? Huh,” Finn says. “I never would have thought of that. Thanks, man. I knew I could count on you to know stuff about crêpe paper.”

“I am a man of many talents, Hudson. You need any other advice, while you’ve got me on the phone?”

“Yeeeah, I think I’m good,” Finn says, shaking his head. Miles Brown. Seriously. “Thanks, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, anytime, Hudson. Anytime,” Miles repeats. “Have fun with your rainbow party. Did I mention on Saturday that I liked your shirt?”

“Oh, yeah? Thanks!” Finn grins to himself, because Brown was definitely not the only one who liked his shirt. “It went over pretty well, I think.”

“Uh-huh,” Brown agrees. “Like I said, Hudson. You let me know if you need any other advice.” With that, Brown hangs up. 

Well, at least Finn knows what kind of crêpe paper to get now, which is something. He still has to finish the other layers in the rainbow cake, and he has to remake the blue layer entirely, because it fell apart when he tried to get it out of the pan. He starts mixing up the stuff for the purple layer when it hits him.

Oh, shit. This cake contains absolutely no chocolate. Not even a little bit of chocolate. Finn can’t exactly throw a birthday party for Puck without a chocolate cake, which means Finn has to remake the blue layer, make the purple layer, and then start over from the very beginning with a whole new cake. 

“Hey, Mom?” Finn shouts into the living room. “Do we have chocolate cake making stuff?”

“I think there’s a mix in the cabinet,” Carole calls back. “Why? I thought you were making that other cake.”

“It’s the wrong kind of cake! Anyway, it’s two different birthdays and so I guess two different cakes!”

“Oh.” Carole sounds slightly confused. “Well, check the cabinet. I know we do have cocoa powder.”

“Can I use that for the frosting, too?” Finn says. 

“Are you making frosting from scratch?” Now Carole sounds alarmed, and there’s a creak from the sofa before she appears in the doorway. “Are you sure you don’t want to just order a cake from Ray’s?”

“Why? Is it really hard to make?” Finn asks over his shoulder while he rifles through the cabinet looking for the cocoa powder. “I can do this!”

“Well, no,” Carole says. “I just thought you might have other things you’d rather do on a Thursday night. I mean, you’ve already worked today, and worked out, and.”

“Nah, it’s not a big deal,” Finn says, waving his hand at her. “It’s fun, and anyway, it might be the last time all of us can get together, and I have to impress the rest of the glee people with my awesome cake.”

Carole smiles a little and shakes her head. “If you’re sure. Oh, if you do have to go get any ingredients at the store, can you get me a jar of queso dip?”

Finn laughs. “Cheese dip for a Pretzel!”

“Oh, you.” Carole shakes her head, but her smile gets wider. “You can’t call her that after she’s born, you know.”

“Sure, I can,” Finn says. “I’ll be hundreds of miles away and nobody can stop me. I’m going to tell everybody in Wisconsin that Pretzel’s her actual name.”

“They’re going to think your parents are horrible people.” Carole looks put-upon, and she goes to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. “I’ll get out of your way, then, so you can make more cake.”

“Cool. You need chips with that jar of queso?” Finn asks. “I can get the scoopy kind.”

“No, I want to eat the baby carrots with it,” Carole answers, heading back towards the living room. “Or maybe some of that broccoli.”

“So weird,” Finn mutters to himself. “Babies just make people weird.” He shakes his head and turns his attention back to the rainbow cake. If he’s going to have time to run out to the store, he has to finish the purple and blue layers right now.

 

“Can we come downstairs yet?” Puck yells out the bedroom door. “It’s not like it’s a surprise party.”

“Five more minutes!” Finn shouts back. “I’m not done!”

“This’d better be impressive!” Puck turns away from the door and shakes his head. “It’s already been twenty minutes.”

“I know.” Kurt shrugs slightly. “Who can say, really. We got kicked out of the house last night and now we’re banished upstairs. I hope we actually get to see the others.” He grins. 

“Nah, we’re the guests of honor who can’t be seen, maybe,” Puck laughs. “We can be behind glass or something. One-way glass. We’ll see a mirror.”

“Ok! You can come down now!” Finn yells up the stairs. 

“Finally!” Kurt exclaims, getting off the bed and grabbing Puck’s hand. “Aren’t the others supposed to be here soon?” he calls to Finn as they head down. 

“Yeah, like fifteen or twenty minutes. That’s why you had to stay upstairs. I was trying to get it all done, and you’re, like, _distracting_ ,” Finn says, appearing at the bottom of the stairs. “Now, just to warn you, I got advice on the crêpe paper from Brown, so if you don’t like it, it’s his fault.”

“We’re very distracting,” Puck agrees. “And it’s… wow. Very rainbow.” There are rainbows everywhere, in fact, like Pride followed them home, and then reproduced. Rainbow balloons, rainbow crêpe paper, and even rainbow–shaped mylar balloons. 

“It is.” Kurt looks around. “Did you double the decorations since there are two of us?” he asks with a grin. 

“You said rainbows, I give you rainbows,” Finn says, gesturing around the room. “If you wanted less rainbows, you should have been more specific.”

“You did give us rainbows.” Kurt’s grin slides into more of a smirk, and he steps forward, kissing Finn’s cheek. “They’re very nice rainbows, darling.”

“Plentiful rainbows are good.” Puck shrugs and puts his arms around Finn and Kurt both. “You should write a tutorial on how to give a rainbow party and post it online.”

“I could put it on my Tumblr. If I, uh. Had one of those.”

“Those shows with suits?” Kurt says, grinning. “Of course you don’t.”

“I _don’t_!” Finn insists. 

“So do we get rainbow food?” Puck asks. 

Finn makes a face that’s almost, but not quite, his guilty look. “Maybe. Why, is rainbow food good or bad? If it’s bad, then it was Mom’s idea.”

“Uh, just a question.” Puck shrugs. “Wondered if we were going to get rainbow–tinted drinks or something.”

“Nah, drinks are just pop,” Finn says. “Beer for _us_ , but not other people. There is rainbow food, though. Well, some rainbow food and some normal food.”

“Other people have to drive at the end of the evening, and we don’t.” Kurt shrugs. “Too bad for them.”

Like Kurt’s words have conjured them or something, there’s a knock at the door, and Puck steps back, letting his arms drop. “We should have worn rainbows and tried to blend in, like camouflage,” he says to Kurt. 

Kurt shakes his head but doesn’t argue the point. Finn walks to the door and opens it, revealing the majority of the glee club, minus Santana, Brittany, and Quinn, plus Brooklyn and her taciturn girlfriend. 

“Hey!” Finn says. “Welcome to the gayest birthday party ever in the history of birthday parties!”

“It looks like you brought Pride back with you,” Mike says. “And then some.”

“They said rainbows. Rainbows they got,” Finn says. “I worked hard on these rainbows.”

“He did,” Kurt says. “Kicked us out last night, kept us upstairs this afternoon.” 

“I think it’s very festive!” Rachel says as everyone walks inside. “I must ask, though, before we get too far into the party, if there’s anything vegan–friendly?”

Finn grimaces behind Rachel’s back and rolls his eyes, but he says, “Yeah, there’s a rainbow of vegetables. Those… crude… things.”

“Vegetables! How thoughtful of you, Finn.” Rachel smiles over her shoulder at him and continues towards the kitchen. 

“Yeah, Finn, how thoughtful of you,” Puck says under his breath to Finn. 

“If I’d been _thinking_ , I would have skipped the fucking vegetables,” Finn whispers. “Shit.”

Puck holds back a laugh as everyone meanders towards the kitchen and the deck. “You should’ve told her you rubbed ‘em with bacon.” He stops. “Actually, maybe you just should have done that for real.”

“It’s not too late. We have bacon,” Finn says. “Next time she leaves the kitchen, I’ll just slap some bacon on there. Oops!”

Kurt laughs. “We might want to cook it first.”

“Then the party would smell even better. What’s the problem?” Puck asks, grinning. 

“Oh, look!” Tina says suddenly. “The dips are the clouds!”

Finn looks like he’s not sure if he’s pleased that somebody noticed or annoyed that Tina said something about it. “It’s a _theme_ , ok? That’s how themed-parties work.”

“No, no, it’s awesome!” Tina says, grinning. “Can I take a picture?”

“Sure,” Finn says. “Here, you should get some of the streamers in there,” he adds, pointing at the rainbow of crêpe paper. 

“Good idea,” Tina agrees. 

“I hate to ask,” Sam says suddenly, “but the rainbow theme doesn’t extend to the music, does it?”

“I can play a mean ‘Over the Rainbow’,” Puck snorts. “But once we do that and ‘Rainbow Connection’, we’re mostly out of luck.”

“What, no ‘Colors of the Wind’?” Finn asks, pulling an innocent face. 

“Asshole,” Puck says, shaking his head. “And after you helped me ‘lost’ that DVD, too.”

“You think you own whatever land you land on,” Finn deadpans, then the doorbell rings. “I’m gonna go get that… asshole.” He shoots Puck a wide grin and heads towards the front door, where Puck can hear Santana’s voice loudly decrying the rainbows.

“It looks like a Crayola factory vomited in your house, Finn,” Santana says. 

“I just gave the men what they asked for,” Finn explains. “Plus, fuck you, it looks awesome.”

“I think this is what heaven looks like,” Brittany says. “It’s nice.”

“It’s certainly colorful,” Quinn says, as though she were agreeing with Brittany. “You did a nice job, Finn. I’m sure they appreciate it.”

“Seriously, I feel like I’ve walked into a more demented version of Disney, and that’s already demented,” Santana bitches. “Could you two _be_ any more stereotypical?” she demands, walking into the kitchen and looking at Puck and Kurt, who are leaning against the wall. 

“No, we could have asked for a Barbie party, but we didn’t want to steal your idea for your next birthday,” Puck says, rolling his eyes. “Finn, which ones are ours?” he asks, nodding towards the cups sitting on the counter.

“Ours are in the fridge. They already have our names on them,” Finn says. “No confusion, that way.”

“Awesome.” Puck opens the refrigerator and grabs out Kurt’s cup and then Finn’s, passing their cups to them before grabbing his own. Sure enough, theirs are definitely not pop, and Puck grins.

“So, if there’s no rainbow music, what kind of music is there?” Brooklyn asks, and her girlfriend nods along with her. “Impromptu glee performance or what?”

“Every get-together is an impromptu glee performance,” Artie says. “Maybe we could skip it this one time.”

“No, that would be horrible!” Rachel says, looking like someone just announced that they’d canceled all Broadway shows, permanently. 

“It’s too bad you don’t have your guitar here, Puck,” Mercedes says, a little too sweetly. “Then no one would have to sing a capella.”

Finn gives Mercedes a weird look. “He could just go up and get it. It’s not far or anything.”

“An entire flight of stairs,” Puck jokes. “How will I cope?”

“You keep your guitar here?” Artie asks. “Or do you just bring it over with you every time?”

Puck gives Artie his own version of the same weird look Finn just gave Mercedes. “Uh.” He looks at Kurt, who shrugs. “I have my guitar here because I live here. Where else would I keep it?”

Mercedes draws in a breath loudly and looks like she’s ready to go on a rant. “What do you mean, you _live_ here? I can’t believe that Burt Hummel would let that go on!”

“You’re welcome to call and ask him, ‘Cedes,” Kurt says cooly. “I’m sure he’d love to explain his parenting decisions to you.”

“Seriously, did none of you realize?” Puck asks, looking around, and everyone shakes their heads. “Weird. Yeah, since the beginning of May.” He shrugs. “Mom and Hannah moved into a smaller apartment, so.”

“Ohh,” Sam says, nodding. “Yeah, that makes sense. I remember Stevie said something about Hannah moving, but then he said she was in the same building, so.”

“Yeah, same building, different floor.”

“Gotcha.” Sam shrugs. “Cool.”

“Your mom moved to an apartment where she didn’t have room for you?” Mercedes asks. 

Puck rolls his eyes. “Because I pretty much made her do it, yeah. Any other questions?” Finn raises his hand. Puck snorts and grins. “Finn?”

“Birthday party or Spanish Inquisition?” Finn asks.

“I thought I signed up for rainbows, but.” Puck shrugs. 

“We should sing,” Brittany declares. “And have cake. And sing about your cake. We should start with the cake.”

“We don’t have a cake,” Finn says, shaking his head and looking comically sad. Brittany’s face crumples and her lower lip starts to tremble, and Finn adds, “Oh, shit, Britt. I’m sorry! I mean, we have _two_ cakes, ok? Two of them.”

Brittany nods. “Okay. I thought this was about to be a sad birthday.”

“You’re the worst comic book hero ever. You make people cry, and you’re called, like, _Rainbow Dude_ ,” Santana snipes. 

“Luckily, this isn’t a comic book party,” Kurt interjects. “And I want my cake. Cakes. Are they both for both of us, or is there one each?”

Finn grins at Kurt. “Well, it was gonna be one for both of you, but then I realized I had, like, complete cake fail and so now there’s one that’s just for Puck and one that was gonna be for both of you, but now it’s just for you.” He inhales and adds, “Which is a long way of saying one each.”

Finn sprints out of the kitchen and then up the stairs for some reason, and returns with Carole’s two cake holders stacked on top of each other. “I had to hide them,” he explains, setting the cake holders on the table. “Ok, this one’s Puck’s. This one, that’s yours, Kurt.”

The first one is a little lopsided, but looks simple enough – a tall cylindrical cake with white frosting. The second one is clearly the one that’s Puck’s, because it’s a nice large square of chocolate. “I know which one’s mine,” Puck grins. 

Finn retrieves a large knife and a slightly smaller knife from the drawer, handing the smaller knife to Puck and the larger knife to Kurt, looking strangely excited about the prospect of cake cutting. “You should slice up some cake,” Finn tells Kurt. 

“Okay,” Kurt agrees, and for a minute, Puck has the absurd thought that Finn did something like the baby–cake again, except they already know Pretzel’s a girl now. After Kurt cuts a slice, though, Puck starts to chuckle, and Kurt laughs. “Rainbow cake!”

The layer cake is actually six thinner than usual layers, one each in red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. “That is epic,” Puck concedes. 

“I’m sorry it doesn’t have any chocolate in it,” Finn says, frowning. “I didn’t even think about it, or I would have, I dunno. Snuck in a chocolate layer. Rainbows could have brown.”

Puck laughs. “They could. But this is cool.” He cuts a few slices of the chocolate cake and puts a slice of rainbow cake on his plate next to the chocolate. “It’s the mud puddle from the cloud at the end of the rainbow, or something.”

Everyone gets some cake and then stands outside on the deck eating it, which means it’s the quietest it’s been since the doorbell rang, when suddenly Mercedes speaks up. “What brand of frosting is this?” she says, gesturing to the chocolate cake. “It’s a little gritty.”

Finn’s face falls and he looks dejected, eyebrows squashed together in a deep frown. “Oh. Yeah, I think I overmixed it or something.”

Puck narrows his eyes at Mercedes, because even if Finn _hadn’t_ made it—and, seriously, can’t she tell the difference between canned frosting and homemade?—it’s still rude. Even Puck knows that. Kurt stiffens beside him and Puck can almost feel his glare. 

“I’m sure you don’t have to eat it, Mercedes,” Kurt says, the too–sweet tone back in his voice. 

“It’s ok. Try the rainbow cake,” Finn suggests. “That’s got canned frosting, so it’s smoother.”

“It’s really not,” Kurt counters, still glaring at Mercedes. “Not okay, I mean.”

“I didn’t mean.” Mercedes stops. “I’m sorry, Finn.”

Finn shrugs. “It is kind of gritty. Sorry, you guys. I tried.”

“It’s chocolate, dude,” Puck says. 

“Finn,” Kurt says suddenly. “Can you get us more to drink?”

“Oh. Yeah, I can do that.” Finn holds his hands out for Puck and Kurt’s cups, then walks towards the garage. 

As soon as Finn’s out of earshot, Kurt wheels on Mercedes, practically baring his teeth. “I know you understand the concept of manners, Mercedes, but why is it that you seem to forget them when you’re in my house lately?”

“I just wanted to know what brand! So I wouldn’t buy it.”

“You seriously can’t taste the difference?” Puck asks incredulously. “Between homemade and canned? That’s either bullshit or _sad_.”

“His butter separated!” Brooklyn suddenly announces. “That’s what happened. He probably overbeat the butter and it separated. That could happen to anybody. Does he make a lot of frosting?”

“No,” Kurt shakes his head. 

“Maybe he was imagining the butter was someone’s face,” Puck says blandly. 

“It’s good, especially for somebody who doesn’t make a lot of frosting,” Brooklyn says staunchly. “Don’t you think so, Nat?” ‘Girlfriend’ nods her head in agreement and takes another large bite of cake. “It definitely tastes better than the canned stuff. Especially that Betty Crocker shit. You could use that shit to spackle your ceiling.”

“Team Soups,” ‘Girlfriend’—Nat apparently—says quietly.

“We should remember that,” Puck says to Kurt. “In case we need emergency spackle ever.”

“The texture gives it character,” Quinn says, giving Mercedes a look that’s clearly meant to indicate ‘knock it off’. “I had no idea Finn could cook. The two of you are obviously a good influence.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Puck mutters under his breath as Finn walks back into the kitchen, balance three cups in his hands. He holds them towards Puck, who takes his cup, then turns to Kurt.

“Thank you,” Kurt says to Puck and Finn, smiling and taking a drink. 

“Ooh, your pop looks different!” Rachel says suddenly to Kurt. 

“Oh, well.” Kurt blinks and then smiles slowly. “It’s organic.”

“But it’s not vegan,” Finn says quickly. “Sorry, Rach. It has. Uh. Byproducts.”

“Oh.” Rachel looks briefly disappointed, then shrugs. “So after everyone finishes cake, we are going to sing, right?”

“We didn’t even make you sing ‘happy birthday’,” Puck points out. “We could try partying like normal people. Not singing.”

“Wait, are you saying we’re _not normal_?” Sam asks. “I’m devastated. Truly devastated!”

 

Somehow, the rest of them finally decide it’s time to leave. Kurt might owe Mike and Tina a gift card or something for helping shepherd everyone towards the front door, where Finn is standing with actual goodie bags. 

“Sweet! We get one too, right?” Puck asks. 

“Yeah. I know you guys are, you know. Not kids. I just don’t know how else to do birthdays,” Finn confesses. “The last time I had a party-party, it had goodie bags, and Hannah’s had goodie bags, and… Oh, god, this is lame, isn’t it?” He hangs his head and shakes it.

“No, it’s awesome,” Puck argues, swiping two of the bags and handing one to Kurt. “Really, every party? Should have goodie bags.”

Kurt peers in the bag curiously. There’s some Starburst, a small bottle of what looks like bubble solution, and a rainbow party blower. “No fake tattoos. That’s good. We’re old enough that I think it’s either the real thing or don’t bother.”

“I don’t think I can picture you with a tattoo,” Finn says. “Your skin’s too nice.”

Kurt giggles. “You don’t think I need something small and tasteful on my wrist?”

“Yeah, you’re clearly into small and tasteful,” Puck says with a laugh as the front door finally closes. “That’s how you ended up with us.”

“You’d still love me if I got a big ol’ tattoo?” Finn asks. “Probably you’d be all, ‘oh god, _Finn!_ ” he adds in the high-pitched voice he _always_ uses when he’s supposedly imitating Kurt. 

“I’d be grievously disappointed if you got some sort of large abstract meaningless thing while drunk,” Kurt concedes. “A well-thought out and well-placed decoration, however, could be… appealing.”

“So no, like, tribal bands? Or hula girls or whatever?”

“Definitely no hula girls,” Kurt says firmly. 

“No hearts with ‘Mom’ in them either,” Puck speaks up around one of his Starburst. “Or really, anything that a dude in a biker gang would have.”

“Fair enough,” Finn agrees. “I don’t think I’m gonna get a ‘Mom’ tattoo, even if I’m shitfaced, so there’s that, anyway.”

“Enough tattoo talk for now,” Kurt decides. “We have at least forty-five minutes before Dad and Carole get home, and I’d like the doors to be closed and locked by then.”

“You guys can go on up,” Finn offers. “I’m gonna just clean up down here really fast.”

“Nope,” Puck says, shaking his head. 

“Sorry,” Kurt says, though he’s not actually sorry at all. “We need to thank you for our party, after all.” He grabs Finn by the wrist and tugs him closer. “It’s still our party, right? So we should get our wishes?”

“Oh, shit, I didn’t even think about candles!” Finn says.

“Oh, well, we can always improvise,” Kurt giggles. “We can blow you… out. Blow you out.” 

“It’d be admirable of Finn to stand in for the candles,” Puck agrees. 

Finn laughs and rolls his eyes. “That’s awful, Kurt. Seriously.”

“Hmm. You can tell me how awful it is in a few minutes.” Kurt grins. “Somehow I suspect you’ll change your tune.”

“Just for the record, there’s extra frosting in Tupperware in the fridge,” Finn says.

 

Puck finds it a little strange that a good fourth of Schue’s wedding guests can’t legally drink, but then again, it’s probably saving Schue and Ms. P some money on the bar. Puck leans between Kurt and Finn and asks “So if she’s hyphenating, can we call her Ms. P.-S.?”

“Nah,” Finn says. “That makes me feel like I should wait for additional information. Maybe we can go with ‘Schuesbury’ or something.”

“Pillster,” Kurt counters. “Definitely Pillster over a new type of berry.”

“I’m also relieved he didn’t ask us to sing,” Puck admits.

“Oh, he totally did,” Finn confesses. “I told him no, because brides don’t like to be overshadowed and, well… Rachel.”

“Good call,” Puck says. “Very good call, actually.”

“Thank god.” Kurt shudders. “Can you imagine what sort of monstrosity that would be? Schue would want either rap or total cheese, and Rachel would insist on Broadway.” He pauses. “We’d have ended up doing something from a show that closed in six months.”

“Nah, he said something about ‘Wonderful Tonight’ and I had to shut that shit down fast,” Finn says, his eyes widening. “I just couldn’t let that fly.”

“Yeah, everyone owes you, and they don’t even know it,” Puck laughs. “Also, this food sort of sucks.”

“But I bet it’s, like, super-clean!” 

“Or Ms. Pillsbury didn’t have anything to do with it,” Kurt points out. “In which case, it could be both contaminated and unappetizing.”

“Is that your way of suggesting that we should leave and get other food?” Puck asks wryly. 

“This tastes like a— something bad,” Finn says, dropping the finger sandwich he’s picking at back onto his plate. “We should go get pizza or something.”

“Well, we have witnessed the first dance, the cutting of the cake, and a number of our friends make fools of themselves on the dance floor, which I don’t understand. Did everyone lose coordination in the last month?” Kurt shrugs. “We probably could go, after we give them our best wishes.”

“Congratulations on attaining wedded bliss, which you are able to do easily in this state because you are heterosexual?” Puck says innocently. 

“We should probably leave off the second half of that sentence,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “But yes, let’s ditch the canapes.”

The three of them walk towards where Schue and Ms. P are sitting down, watching everyone. Finn takes a step forward and holds his hand out to Schue.

“We need to take off, but we wanted to say congrats one more time,” Finn says, and Schue takes Finn’s hand with a smile. 

“Thank you for coming. We really appreciate it,” he says, glancing at Ms. Pillsbury. “And thank you for the gift.”

“Oh, no problem,” Finn says. “We’re happy to be here and all of that.” Schue pulls Finn into a hug with the hand still shaking Finn’s, and Finn gives Puck a sort of desperate look over Schue’s shoulder, like he’s pleading for assistance. 

Puck suppresses a laugh, and he and Kurt step forward in an attempt to distract Schue. Schue does release Finn and shake their hands after just a few more seconds. “You two as well!” he says. “Thanks so much.” Luckily, he doesn’t try to hug either of them, and that’s probably a very good decision. 

“We’ll see you around,” Puck says, taking a few steps towards the doorway. “Congratulations.” They make it to the door without any interruption, and Puck exhales a little as they step outside. “I think the air conditioning was going too much when it feels good to be out here.”

“I was about to make you find me a blanket,” Kurt agrees. 

“Hey!” Finn says. “I could totally be your blanket!”

Kurt grins. “Hold that thought until after we’ve had pizza?”

“Naked pizza?” Puck asks. “That’s fun. Unless the pizza’s really fresh and the cheese slides around.”

 

Finn wonder if maybe this is like practice for college, but if it is, he thinks maybe he’ll rethink that whole fraternity thing. Three parties in three days is one or two parties too many, honestly. He’d have been happier just spending the day bumming around the house waiting for Kurt and Puck to get home, or even just hanging out at the Starbucks making faces at Puck while he makes coffee. It’s cool of Coach to want to throw them a going-away party or whatever these things are supposed to be, but the summer’s already going a little too fast.

“Hudson!” Lawrence says as Puck and Kurt walk back to get more potato salad. Lawrence, Smith, and Doroszko all approach Finn. “Got a minute to talk to us about recruitment?”

“Uh.” Finn looks over at the food table a little enviously. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“What was it like, having all the scouts come to the games? Did it make you nervous?” Smith asks, looking a little nervous just to be asking. 

Finn shrugs. “You know, not really. I mean, Coach had Puck talk to the recruiters for me, so I knew they were at least just hearing the good shit, not the bad shit. It wasn’t that big a deal.”

“Yeah, what’s Coach going to do if we’re all looking at college ball, though?” Lawrence shakes his head. “So it wasn’t a lot of pressure?”

“Nah, not really,” Finn says, thinking Lawrence maybe has higher hopes than he ought to, but hey, that’s not Finn’s call. “You just play your best game. That’s what you should be doing anyway.”

“Well, yeah,” Doroszko agrees, nodding like he thought of that idea. “Every game is the most important game of the season when you’re playing it, right, Hudson?”

Luckily, Finn has enough self control to not say ‘oh for fuck’s sake’ out loud. He just settles on, “Yeah, sure, if that’s what does it for you.”

“Maybe put in a good word for McKinley with the Big 10, right?” Lawrence laughs. 

“Yeah, I’ll totally do that,” Finn says. He’s not really going to do that, at least not for these guys, but whatever. It’s like Puck says. He’s being civil, asshole.

Kurt and Puck come back, and Puck hands Finn a plate with some ribs on it. “Got you some ribs,” he announces unnecessarily, then nods towards the three juniors. “But if you want more potato salad, you have to get it yourself.” Puck grins as he and Kurt sit back down, and he throws one arm around Kurt. 

“Aww,” Finn whines. “It’ll all be gone before I get over there. But thanks for the ribs.”

“You’ve been working out,” Kurt says. “Wrestle competitors out of the way to attain more potato salad.”

“Is it really that good?” Smith asks, sounding dubious. 

“If you like stuff that tastes awesome, then yeah,” Finn says, shrugging. “Not everybody like awesome stuff, though, I guess. Different tastes or whatever.”

Doroszko nods, but he looks distracted, side-eyeing Puck and Kurt. Finn narrows his eyes at Doroszko.

“Dude, you got a problem or what?” Finn asks.

Before Doroszko can answer, Coach Beiste starts yelling about cake, and then adds, “And a little bit of business.” She motions for everyone to come closer to the deck, and when she’s apparently satisfied, she starts talking again. “So as I said in the invitation, this is to honor our players that graduated, whether they’re going on to play ball in college or not. So if the five of you would come up here.”

Finn takes a second to do the math in his head and comes up with himself, Sam, Karofsky, Mike… and that leaves Puck as the fifth guy. “Hey, Puck, I think that’s you, too, dude.”

“What?” Puck says through a mouthful of potato salad, looking up at Finn. “Huh?”

“Well, it only makes five if she means you, too,” Finn says quietly. “Unless Mike’s got, like, a secret identical twin he was swapping out games with or something. Come on.” He gestures at Kurt to take Puck’s plate, then he links his arm with Puck’s and hauls him up to where Coach Beiste is standing.

“Now K’s going to eat my potato salad,” Puck mutters under his breath as Coach Beiste says something about leaving Ohio. Then she hands them each a gift and tells them to open them up. 

Finn immediately rips into his present, because if there’s one thing Finn’s already a master at, it’s unwrapping stuff. It does take him a second to process that what he’s holding is a digital picture frame, but at least he gets there faster than the other guys, who look super confused and have to wait for Beiste to explain what they are. He flips the frame’s power on and looks at the picture of the whole team that comes up first.

“What is it, Mike?” Tina calls out, sounding confused. 

“It’s a digital picture frame,” Finn says. “My mom has one of these in her office at work. It’s awesome, Coach, thanks!”

Puck turns his on then, appearing to study the first picture in detail. Finn looks back at his frame, watching the pictures scroll through. Picture of all of the seniors on the team that year. Picture from signing day of Finn in that hat, looking a little more thrilled than he probably realized he looked at the time. The next picture is of Finn and Puck at a game, right after a touchdown, it looks like, and Finn leans over and elbows Puck, holding out the frame.

Puck nudges back, the same picture on his frame, and while they’re both looking at Finn’s frame, the picture changes again, and it’s Finn, Puck, and Kurt, obviously taken in the middle of their performance of ‘Marching On’. Finn and Puck both look over at Kurt and grin.

Finn says, out of the corner of his mouth, “We should get Kurt and leave and go fuck.”

Puck snorts, nodding, but then Coach Beiste says something and Puck shakes his head. “No, asshole, cake first. Left side’s chocolate.”

“Your left side is chocolate,” Finn grumbles, but he’s taking a step in the direction of the cake when Coach stops them for picture–taking. Mr. Desmond snaps a few pictures of all five of them, then starts rearranging them into groups of two and three. Karofsky frowns, looking even more put-upon than he did before. Puck throws his arm over Finn for one picture, and as soon as Mr. Desmond turns away, Puck shakes his head. 

“Taunting us with cake,” he mutters. “Unfair.”

“Get your damn cake so we can go,” Finn says. He and Puck grab Kurt, and the three of them get some cake. Finn and Puck show Kurt their picture frames. 

“That was nice of Coach Beiste,” Kurt says, eyes flickering between the two frames. “She must have asked Mr. Schue for a few pictures as well.”

“I wanna _go_ ,” Finn says. “These pictures make me want to leave. Casey and Karofsky left. Can’t we leave?”

“You didn’t want to keep talking to Doroskzo and Smith and Lawrence?” Puck asks, grinning. “Thought Doroskzo was going to start twitching or something.”

“If you see them coming this way, let me know, and I’ll go hide in the bathroom,” Finn mutters. “Seriously.”

“We haven’t even eaten our cake,” Kurt says. “We can’t leave yet. But we’ll do our best to hide you away if necessary.”

Finn sighs loudly. “This weekend has been so long and it’s had so much cake.”

“But yours was the best, dude.” Puck takes a bite of cake and frowns. “This one’s dry-ish.”

The cake is kind of dry, but the frosting isn’t gritty, which is a mark in favor of the Beiste–cake. Still, if Puck says Finn’s cake is better, Finn isn’t going to argue. He doesn’t even bother hiding his smile. He’s just finishing his cake when he notices Doroszko starting to drift back in his direction, Lawrence and Smith in tow.

“Oh, shit,” Finn says. “Them again.”

“Run, darling,” Kurt says. “I’ll attempt to flummox them by discussing how their practice outfits could be more stylish next year.” 

“Here, dude, help me hide!” Finn says, grabbing Puck by the arm and dragging him along off the porch. 

Puck laughs. “You’re lucky I already finished my cake, asshole.”

Behind them, Kurt is speaking loudly. “Oh, just the people to talk to. You see, I couldn’t convince them last year.”

Finn climbs the Desmonds’ fence and holds out a hand to help Puck over. “Whatever. I like your asshole, asshole.”

“Yeah, you do,” Puck agrees, using Finn for leverage to swing over. “She didn’t warn you about getting ambushed in the invitation.”

“Nope,” Finn says. Once Puck’s feet hit the ground, Finn gives him a shove, pushing him up against the side of the house. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Puck half–smirks at him. 

Finn slams his mouth against Puck’s, pinning Puck’s body against the house, and shoving one hand down the front of Puck’s pants. Puck lets his mouth fall open under Finn’s lips, and his hips jerk forward at the contact. It’s one of Puck’s commando days, so Finn can wrap his hand around Puck’s cock and move it up and down a few times. Finn’s just considering the merits of flipping Puck around and maybe fucking him against the side of the house when he hears voice on the other side of the fence.

“I swear he went this way,” a voice that sounds like Smith’s says. 

“Hey Hudson?” Doroskzo calls out.

“Shit,” Finn whispers. “Around through the front door?”

Puck whines for a second but nods. “You tease,” he mutters as they walk towards the front of the house. 

“It’s not my fault!” Finn says. “We got, like, _ambushed_!”

“You can make it up to me later.”

“Twice. Or three times, maybe, ok?” They walk into the house and Finn says, “I’m gonna just I dunno. Hide in the bathroom. If you see them, tell them I went home. Or died.”

“I’ll tell ‘em you changed your name and became a Buddhist monk,” Puck agrees. “Or maybe one of those Hare Krishna people.”

“As long as they don’t look for me, that’s cool,” Finn says. “Come get me when we’re allowed to leave.” He sneaks one more quick kiss from Puck, then ducks into the bathroom to hide. He’s only in there a few minutes, though, before he hears someone tapping on the door. “Uh, occupied!”

“There you are,” Kurt’s voice answers. “Still hiding?”

“Yes,” Finn says. “It’s not actually locked.”

Kurt opens the door and slips inside, then does lock it. “Sadly, I failed to convince them that you weren’t available for interrogation.”

“Shit,” Finn mutters. “Like any of them are really gonna be in that high demand. Lawrence can catch, but he can’t run in a straight line. Smith’s only on the team because he’s the only guy who was going out for center, and Doroszko doesn’t understand the plays. Being built like a tank doesn’t help that much if you get lost and wander down the field.”

Kurt tilts his head, studying Finn for a few seconds, then steps forward, throwing his arms around Finn’s neck and bringing their lips together. Finn slides one hand down Kurt’s back, pulling him closer, pushing one knee between Kurt’s legs. Kurt whimpers slightly, rocking forward against Finn and wrapping one leg around Finn’s calf. “Fuck, darling,” Kurt whispers against Finn’s lips. 

“ _You’re_ the one who won’t let us leave,” Finn says. “We should leave.”

“You _could_ fuck me right here,” Kurt says, a slight whine in his voice. 

“Yeah, that sounds awesome,” Finn agrees, moving his mouth to Kurt’s neck. “You’ve got supplies with you?”

“Shit. No.” Kurt drops his forehead to Finn’s shoulder. “Just in the Nav.”

“We should go to there, then,” Finn says. “You should find Puck and I’ll… shit, I left my picture frame thing out there. _Shit_.”

“I’ll get it, too,” Kurt answers. “And then we _should_ leave, and you can fuck me while Puck watches. And then Puck while I watch.” Kurt pulls out his keys and drops them into Finn’s hand. 

“Fuck. Hurry,” Finn says, closing his hand around the keys. “Meet you out there.”

Kurt kisses him again, running his hand over Finn’s cock through Finn’s jeans, and then unlocks the door and slips out, the sound of his quick footsteps echoing slightly. Finn pokes his head out of the bathroom, making sure the coast is clear, then bolts for the front door again. He double checks that he’s not being followed, then he unlocks the Nav and climbs into the back, leaning up to reach around the front seat and crank the engine.

Three or four minutes pass before Kurt and Puck climb in, Kurt turning around to hand Finn his digital frame. “Do you think Dad and Carole are still out?” Kurt asks.

Finn looks at the clock and sighs. “Probably not.”

“Where’s someplace deserted?” Puck muses. 

Kurt laughs. “There’s always the parking lot near the stadium. Can’t really be seen from the road. Most of the parks are too crowded.”

“Wherever that’s not home or here,” Finn says. “We should go there. Now.”

Kurt nods, grinning a little, and then drives to the stadium, parking in the shade of it and rolling down the front windows before turning the Nav off. “Backseat,” he says, opening up the console and pulling out a bottle of lube. 

“I’m already in the backseat,” Finn says. 

“The _other_ backseat,” Puck says, climbing over the seats. “The most–backseat.”

“Fine,” Finn sighs, moving into the back row. 

“So difficult.” Kurt climbs over as well, sliding his hand under Finn’s T-shirt. “I told Puck what the plan was, darling,” Kurt says, whispering against Finn’s ear. “Unless you wanted to change it.”

Finn closes his eyes and leans against Kurt. “Nope. It was a great plan and we should stick with it.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“Nakedness,” Finn says, turning towards Kurt and pulling Kurt’s shirt over his head. Once he has Kurt’s shirt off, Finn pulls off his own T-shirt and chucks it up into the middle row of seats. Puck starts to take his clothes off as well, sitting sideways with his back against the side of the Nav. Clothes fly everywhere and then finally the three of them are all naked. 

“Now we’re naked,” Puck says, smirking. “You should fuck K now.”

Finn grins at Puck. “You’re not gonna feel left out?”

“I have the best seat,” Puck grins back. “Real question is if _you’re_ going to feel left out, nobody fucking you.”

“If I do, can I just let you know?” Finn asks, swiping the bottle of lube from Kurt and pouring some into his hand. 

“You can try. You might wear us out.” Puck smirks. “Maybe you should try that, actually.”

“Yes,” Kurt interjects. “You should definitely try that.” Kurt turns onto his hands and knees, facing Puck, and then pushes back slightly against Finn. “And you should talk to Puck while you fuck me. Right, baby?”

“Fuck, yes,” Puck agrees, nodding. 

“I see how it is,” Finn pretends to grumble, slicking himself up and slowly pushing into Kurt. “Make me do all the work.”

“You’re so put-upon,” Puck laughs. 

“Yes, such a strain,” Kurt says, rocking backwards as Finn moves forward. 

“Yep.” Finn reaches around to put his hand on Kurt’s cock. “Hate it. So much work. _Fuck_ , Kurt, you always feel so good.”

Kurt’s breath catches slightly and he slides into Finn’s hand before pushing back. “Harder, please,” he says, voice almost strained. 

“So polite,” Puck laughs. “You obviously need to fuck that out of him.”

Finn nods and slams his hips forward harder, tightening his hand on Kurt’s cock as he moves. “You should— _fuck, Kurt_ —help him out with that,” Finn says to Puck. “This is a two person job.”

“Maybe he should watch my fingers,” Puck says, picking up the lube and pouring some on two fingers before pushing them inside himself. “Think about that, blue eyes. As soon as you come, you can watch Finn fuck me.”

Kurt lets out a low whine, moving with Finn’s thrust. “Fuck, darling,” he breathes. “ _Fuck_.” He hums slightly, then stops. “Don’t come, Finn. Don’t.”

“What? Kuuuurt,” Finn whines, still thrusting into Kurt. “Whyyyy?”

“So you can fuck our baby,” Kurt says, then falls into humming again. “God, Finn.”

“ _Fuck_ , Kurt,” Finn says in a low voice, and Kurt hums as he comes, shuddering around Finn and spilling all over Finn’s hand. Even though Finn really, _really_ wants to keep moving, he makes himself go still, leaning against Kurt’s back and breathing heavily.

“Come here, baby,” Kurt says quietly, and when Puck scoots forward, Kurt kisses him deeply before slowly moving away from Finn. “Your turn.” Kurt slumps against the side of the Nav, smiling. “Go on, darling.”

Puck picks up Finn’s hand, licking it mostly clean before flipping over with a little groan. “C’mon.”

Finn grabs Puck by the hips and pushes inside him hard, wondering why exactly he’d agreed to the plan that meant he had to wait to come. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. “Puck, baby, I swear to god if _you_ tell me not to come…”

Puck laughs and rocks back against him. “Just don’t leave me hanging.”

“Talk to me,” Kurt orders.

“Bossy, bossofme,” Finn says, thrusting into Puck. “Gonna put my hand on his cock now. That allowed?”

“Yes.” Kurt’s smirking now. “Feel good, baby?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Puck nods. 

Finn’s hand tightens around Puck’s cock and he leans against Puck’s back, his other arm bracing against the seat of the Nav. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , baby, love you,” Finn murmurs against Puck’s back. “Need to come, ok?”

“Fill him up,” Kurt says. “Keep fucking him while you come, darling.”

Instead of answering, Finn just makes a noise in response, and he holds on tight to Puck and comes, still moving and talking to himself. Puck tightens around him, moving against Finn, and then comes himself with a whispered “Fuck!”

Finn goes limp against Puck’s back, almost panting. “Thought I was supposed to wear you guys out.”

“Did we wear you out instead?” Kurt asks. 

“Yes. Now I need a nap and something to eat,” Finn says. “You think we could go back for more ribs?”

 

Miles Brown walks into the Starbucks at 8:30 and leans on the counter. “Puckerman,” he says, “you and me need to talk.”

Finn looks up from his coffee and shrugs at Puck, looking interested. “We do?” Puck says mildly. 

Brown nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Look, I know I’m not your favorite person in the world, but I’m gonna be hanging out in here for a while today, and the way I see it, you might understand why I need to do that.”

Puck nods a little, because yeah, there’s a reason John’s not the one coming in at nine this particular Wednesday. Finn raises one eyebrow and tips his head in the direction of the espresso machine. Puck nods.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Finn says to Brown. “It’s good you’re here. Bet he’s a wreck.”

Brown nods his head rapidly and looks relieved that they understand why he’s there. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s it exactly. Shep told me I oughta call him by nine, but I thought… maybe it’d be better if I was just here, right? In case he needed something.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Puck says with a nod. “He’ll be in at nine, anyway.”

“I won’t be in anybody’s way. I’ll just sit over there,” Brown indicates a table towards the back of the store, “and drink my coffee. I’ll keep buying coffees if I need to, just… I couldn’t leave him all alone today, you know?”

Puck nods. “Just don’t glare at the customers. Even the annoying ones. Then Ms. Horatio’ll tell us to make sure not to let our delinquent associates scare them off.” Puck grins at the end of the sentence. 

“Why, Puckerman! I’m touched that you’d call me an associate,” Brown says, smirking. “Now, I’ll have a venti white mocha with extra whipped cream.”

“Casey’s associate. Not mine.” Puck rolls his eyes. “Extra whipped cream.” He shakes his head but starts fixing the drink. 

Once Brown has his drink, he does actually sit at the table quietly, scrolling through something on his phone with the occasional glance towards the door. At 8:55, Finn stands up and gives Puck a rueful smile.

“Gotta go,” Finn says. 

“Tell K there’s still no progress on the jackhammering.”

“I might snip some brake lines in the parking lot on the way to my truck,” Finn says, giving Puck a wink. “Happy birthday again. See you tonight.”

“Be good,” Puck says after a glance to see Brown is still on his phone. 

Finn grins back at him. “I’m always good.” With that, he walks out the door. Just two minutes later, the door swings open again and Casey walks in looking shaken. Puck’s not sure if he should acknowledge how rough he looks or let Casey pretend things are normal. He decides just to err on the side of normal, and nods at Casey. 

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Casey says, without much enthusiasm. He glances around the store and seems startled when he sees Brown sitting in the back. “Oh. Miles. You’re at my Starbucks.”

Brown shrugs. “Didn’t have anything else going on this morning, and I was up, and I heard a little rumor that you might be working this morning, so,” he says, spreading his arms out, “here I am, drinking my mocha.”

Casey smiles faintly. “Hi, Miles.”

Brown waves Casey over. “Come on over here, Cherry. I know you need to.” 

Casey crosses the Starbucks to Brown’s table, and lets himself get enveloped in a hug. Brown says something quietly, and Puck bangs one of the milk pitchers against the counter. He’s not sure how this shift’s going to go, if he’s honest, but at least he can reassure Casey that Puck didn’t hear whatever it was that Brown said. 

After a couple of minutes, Brown lets Casey go, and Casey wipes his hand across his eyes and goes behind the counter to clock in. Brown keeps sitting in the back of the Starbucks, drinking his coffee and alternating his attention between his phone and watching Casey. Puck shrugs and heads towards the back to get more milk. It may be a long shift. 

 

Kurt squeezes Finn’s hand before opening the door and climbing out of Finn’s truck in the parking lot of the shop. “Thank you for the ride, darling,” he says quietly. “Try to go back to sleep?”

“Nah, I’m up, so I’ll pretend to be productive or something,” Finn says. “I dunno, maybe I’ll sort some shit.”

“Makes sense.” Kurt nods and closes the door, then turns and squares his shoulders before heading indoors. He bypasses the front, where he can hear his dad doing something, and heads straight for the back, putting on his coveralls and heading towards the car in the rightmost bay. He’s halfway through rebuilding the coolant system when he hears Burt approaching. 

“So how long are we gonna keep doing this?” Burt asks, his tone non-confrontational. 

Kurt straightens and tilts his head, studying Burt. “Hmm. I don’t know.”

“Well, you kind of busted up housekeeping in here on Friday,” Burt says, raising an eyebrow. “You feel like talking about that?”

“Not really,” Kurt says candidly. “Did you want to discuss the things _you_ were saying?”

“You don’t have any right telling Danny and Bobby to walk out of here, you know.”

“It was just a suggestion.” Kurt shrugs. “I’m certain Danny especially is capable of making his own decisions.”

“And Bobby?” Burt says. “He’s scared of you. It’s not fair of you to take advantage of that.”

“I never asked for him to be afraid of me,” Kurt protests. “It’s not my fault there are rumors about me at McKinley.”

“You can be a little overbearing. And we’ll come back to that rumors thing later.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow at that, because no, he doesn’t think they should come back to the rumors later. “I’m sure Bobby knows who signs his paycheck,” Kurt finally settles on. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Burt says. “So are you planning to carry on not talking to me over this Finn thing?”

“Were you planning on continuing to treat him like a serf in your fiefdom?”

“Well, son, I can’t really answer that. Mainly on account of not knowing exactly what a fiefdom is.”

Kurt sighs. “Like he has no ability to think for himself, and exists solely to do your bidding? At times before he even knows what, exactly, ‘your bidding’ might be?”

“I expect him to be able to do the job that I’m paying him to do,” Burt says. “I don’t think my standards are unreasonable.”

“They are,” Kurt counters. “You’re constantly comparing his performance to that of seasoned, certified mechanics with four or more years of experience.”

“He should be picking it up faster than this,” Burt insists. “He _could_ if he wanted to. I think he’s thinking that he’s leaving in a month and there’s no reason to really try that hard.”

“Dad, _I’m_ the last person you trained. You started training me after I had been watching you do all of these things for _how_ many years?”

“That’s not the point, Kurt—”

“That is exactly the point. There’s also the more secondary point of how different people learn in different ways, but the fact is that I had seen an oil change thousands of times before I ever did one. I’d watched you rebuild engines and fix brakes and repair radiators for years. There’s no substitute for that kind of background, Dad.”

Burt sighs and his shoulders drop. He shakes his head, and says, “Yeah, but you’re not the one who’s gonna be coming home summers and working here, are you? So I got to make do with what I got.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “No, I’m the one who’s going to be working for someone who _isn’t_ you. But with— I wouldn’t blame Finn if he didn’t come back and work in the summer.”

“What else is he supposed to do? They don’t house football players during the summer,” Burt says.

“You have reduced Finn to a caricature and a stereotype,” Kurt says slowly, turning away slightly. Burt’s not wrong, but Finn could work somewhere else in Lima, find a place to sublet for the summer in Madison, or— Kurt smiles to himself. Or Finn could come to New York in the summer. 

“Look, Kurt,” Burt begins. “Finn’s a good kid. I know you two have gotten real close this past year, and that’s great. His mom and I just worry about what he’s gonna do with himself when he doesn’t have a club or a team anymore. College is only—hopefully—four years.”

“People tend to rise to the expectations placed on them. Or fall to them.” Kurt pivots back to stare at Burt. “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating Finn.”

“I’ll try to cut him a little more slack around here,” Burt offers. “Maybe you could spend a little time showing him how to do some of that stuff he’s been having a hard time with. Would that make you feel better about it?”

Kurt resists the urge to snort or roll his eyes, because that’s what they already _do_ , and apparently seamlessly enough that Burt doesn’t notice until something—like a timing belt—comes along that Kurt hasn’t had a chance to talk Finn through. He’s done with the conversation, though, because it feels like they’re talking in circles. Instead, he nods sharply twice, then turns back to the car. 

 

“I still say that should be your Halloween costume, blue eyes,” Puck says as they walk back into the house. “Right, Finn?”

“He’s got a point, dude,” Finn says. “Your ass would look way better than what’s his face’s.”

“I doubt I could easily find an exact replica of the Spiderman costume,” Kurt says dryly. “Undoubtedly it would be somewhat baggier.”

“That would be a crime,” Puck acknowledges reluctantly. “And then you’d be in some weird recursive loop where you’re dressed up as a crimefighter, yet committing a crime.”

“You could fix it like you fixed my shirts,” Finn suggests. “You made those really tight.”

Puck looks over at Kurt, smirking, and Kurt grins back. “They aren’t tight,” Kurt insists. “They’re just right.”

“Like Baby Bear,” Puck says, grabbing a can of pop for each of them from the refrigerator, and then running his can along the back of Finn’s neck. 

“Yeah, well, _you’re_ just right,” Finn grumbles, cringing when the can touches his neck. “Cold! Cold!”

“I’d offer to warm you up,” Puck teases, “but I guess I should cook dinner.”

“You seem to have a disproportionate number of Tuesdays,” Kurt laughs. “How did that happen?” 

“We traded for…” Finn frowns and squishes his eyebrows together. “What’d we trade for this week, Puck?”

“Vacuuming.” Puck shrugs. “I always vacuum up the cord.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Finn nods. “I like vacuuming. It’s soothing.”

“So weird,” Puck shakes his head. “Are you two going to watch me cook again?”

“I like to,” Finn says, shrugging. 

“I’m going to work on that trifle for tomorrow,” Kurt says, then exchanges a look with Puck. “Finn, weren’t you looking for something in your room this morning?”

“Yeah, my flag T-shirt. I couldn’t find it anywhere, though. I think maybe Mom put it somewhere.”

“Mmm.” Kurt sticks his head in the refrigerator. “Well, you could look for it quickly.”

“But I already looked everywhere.” Finn narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Wait a minute, did you make it tighter?”

Kurt shrugs unconcernedly. “Maybe.”

Puck laughs. “Just go look and then you can tell us.”

“If he made it tight, I’ll put it on with my flag boxers,” Finn says, calling behind him as he walks towards the stairs. “I’ll model my patriotic look.”

As soon as Puck hears Finn on the stairs, he digs through the back of the refrigerator and pulls out the jar of snails. “Quick,” he hisses. “We have to get rid of the jar before he comes back.”

Kurt laughs and hands Puck a bowl, and Puck quickly dumps them into it before rinsing the jar and putting the lid back on. “I’ll take it out to the recycle bin,” Kurt offers, and he heads into the garage briefly before coming back and rinsing berries. 

“Think he’ll realize these are odd mushrooms?” Puck jokes. 

“Hard to say.”

They can hear Finn’s feet thundering down the steps before he reappears in the kitchen door in his—now much tighter—Old Navy fourth of July T-shirt, but still has his jeans on. “I couldn’t find my flag boxers. Have you seen them anywhere?”

“Yes,” Kurt says brightly. “They’re the same place as those pin-striped blue ones.”

Finn’s eyebrows squish together again. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen those in months.”

“That’s terrible, darling.” Kurt turns around and grins, then pulls Finn down into a kiss. “You’ll have to get by without them, I suppose.”

“I’ve got all those nice Under Armour ones, anyway, so I guess I’m alright,” Finn says. “Hey, that smells good. What’s cooking?”

Puck grins to himself before sobering and turning around. “Mushrooms. There’s chicken in the Foreman.”

“Cool. Are we gonna have rice or pasta or whatever? I could boil something!” Finn tries to crack the oven door to peek inside, and Puck swats his ass. 

“Stop it, asshole.”

“It’s not a soufflé, asshole!” Finn retorts. “I’m allowed to open the oven!”

“It could be a mushroom soufflé.” Puck shrugs. “Wash some berries for K or something.”

“It doesn’t look like a soufflé,” Finn grumbles as he walks to the sink and starts rinsing berries. “Not even a little bit like a soufflé. I know what those look like.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Puck says, grinning. “It’ll be ready in like, ten minutes, anyway.” He grabs the salad stuff from the refrigerator and hopes the chicken is enough to throw Finn off track, at least initially. Kurt gets the trifle assembled and into the refrigerator to chill just as all the timers start going off, and Puck gets everything on the table without Finn looking too closely at the ‘mushrooms’. 

“Looks good,” Kurt says almost too casually. 

“So, what’s this mushroom thing?” Finn says, poking at the snails in garlic butter. “Just mushrooms in butter?”

“Garlic butter. With parsley and onions,” Puck answers. 

Finn continues poking the snails. “And what kind of mushrooms did you say these were? I haven’t ever seen any that look like that. These almost kinda look like… oysters or something.”

“They’re imported.” Puck shrugs. “And, uh. On special. Thought we could try them.”

“Special, imported mushrooms,” Finn repeats, sounding dubious. “Ok. I’m sure they’re good.” He scoops some onto his plate alongside the chicken.

“Anything with that much butter should be,” Puck jokes, filling his own plate. 

“Now I know why this is Tuesday night dinner and not another night,” Kurt says. “Dad would just have to look forlornly at it.”

“This is epically buttery,” Finn says, chewing happily on a snail. “Doesn’t taste like mushrooms, though. Maybe that’s the surprise, huh? Mushrooms that don’t taste like mushrooms?”

Puck actually starts to feel a little bad, since Finn just takes what they say as the absolute truth and eats them. Puck takes a bite of his own snails, decides he didn’t do a half-bad job, and then looks back at Finn. “Good, then?”

“Yeah. Kind of chewy. It’s good, though.”

“Yeah, uh.” Puck looks at Kurt, who shrugs slightly. “Surprise.”

“Dude, it’s not really a surprise. I can see the mushrooms,” Finn says.

“Yeah, well, they’re not actually mushrooms, darling,” Puck responds. “That’s the surprise.”

“Is it oysters? I said it kinda looked like oysters.”

“Not oysters. Remember I said sometime I was going to slip you some surprise certain somethings?”

Finn shrugs. “You say a lot of stuff and I probably don’t remember half of it. Surprise food, surprise foo— dude. _Dude!_ ” He sets down his fork. “Uncool, Puckerman! That is _uncool_.”

“You said they were pretty good!” Puck protests. 

“You fed me _snails_?” Finn looks downright wounded. 

“You wouldn’t have tried them if you knew what they were,” Puck says with a shrug. 

“I might’ve if you’d just _told_ me,” Finn insists. “Now I just feel stupid.” He frowns at the snails on his plate and doesn’t pick up his fork again.

Puck frowns and looks at Kurt, who shrugs. “Why stupid?” Puck finally asks. 

“’Cause who else would believe that snails were mushrooms? Probably nobody else would,” Finn says, sounding almost bitter. “But fine. That’s fine. No big deal. I ate snails because I thought they were mushrooms. Fine.”

“Most people don’t know what snails look like,” Puck points out. 

“And they weren’t in shells, either,” Kurt adds. 

Finn just nods sullenly and picks his fork back up, eating a bite of his chicken without saying anything. 

“The point was to be sneaky, not anything else,” Puck says after a few moments pass in silence. 

Finn shrugs. “It’s ok. Not a big deal.” He continues eating his chicken, not touching the snails.

“And yet, obviously it is,” Puck says dryly. 

“It’s _not_ , so just fucking drop it.”

“If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be looking at the plate like it personally called you names or something,” Puck says, rolling his eyes. 

“Dude, I said drop it,” Finn snaps. “Seriously.”

“So you can keep snapping at me all night? No thanks.”

“I’d stop snapping if you’d start dropping it!” Finn drops his fork onto his plate with a clatter.

“Yeah, right,” Puck scoffs. “I know you, remember?” He can tell Kurt’s torn on the wisdom of what he’s doing, but the way Puck looks at it, the sooner Finn gets really pissed off, the sooner they’ll be done with it. 

“I just don’t need you to tell me I’m stupid, ok?” Finn nearly shouts, slapping his hand on the table. His hand closes around his fork, and he stabs his few remaining snails and crams the forkful into his mouth, chewing dramatically and then swallowing. “There. I ate the snails. Can we drop it now?”

Puck rolls his eyes. “No one said you were stupid. Stop putting words in my mouth.”

“Well, stop putting _snails_ in _my_ mouth!”

Puck snorts before he can help himself, because it was pretty funny. Kurt apparently thinks so too, judging by the way he stuffs a bite of chicken into his mouth. “I promise to never serve you surprise snails again. _Surprise_ ones.”

“See, darling?” Kurt says after he swallows. “No more surprise snails. But you could, in fact, cook mushrooms the same way.”

“It’s not funny,” Finn grumbles. 

“I wasn’t making a joke,” Kurt counters. “And Puck wasn’t either.”

“Ok,” Finn says. “Cool.” He seems to realize that he just ate a mouthful of snails to prove a point, because he suddenly picks up his water glass and drinks the whole thing in a few gulps. 

“And there might be some Ben & Jerry’s hidden in the back of the freezer,” Puck concedes. 

“What flavor?” Finn asks.

“There’s that one you like that has lots of things but no chocolate, whatever it’s called,” Puck answers. “Brownie Batter for me. Blackberry Cobbler for K.”

Finn twists his mouth up and squishes his eyebrows together like he’s thinking hard about it. “Ok. Acceptable,” he says, with a nod.

“Good.” Puck stands up and pulls the pints out, tossing Kurt his and stepping behind Finn to put it down in front of Finn’s plate. He kisses Finn’s neck, then Finn’s ear, and finally moves to Finn’s cheek. “Love you, darling.”

Then tension leaves Finn’s shoulders and he leans against Puck, exhaling loudly. “I love you, too. Even if you’re an asshole who feeds me snails.”

“Look at it this way. If someone says to you ‘how do you know you don’t like snails? have you ever tried them?’ you can tell them yes,” Puck suggests, kissing the other side of Finn’s neck before dropping back into his own chair. 

“They tasted good,” Finn confesses, “but I don’t like the _idea_ of them.”

“Caviar next?” Puck laughs. 

“Can we please not eat weird stuff that comes out of animals? Please? Other than regular chicken eggs?” Finn asks.

“You can. I like the weird stuff.” Puck grins. 

“Obviously, I mean…” Finn gestures at himself and then tilts his head ever so slightly in Kurt’s direction.

Kurt sniffs. “I represent that remark.”

 

“I’m not supposed to have to do tests,” Finn says. “It’s the summer.”

“You could have taken them at the beginning of the summer?” Kurt suggests. “But that would have been equally annoying, no doubt.”

“I don’t want to take them at all. I don’t want to know how stupid I am and how many remedial classes I probably have to take,” Finn groans. “If I have to take remedial Spanish or something, I’m blaming Schue.”

“Do you even have to _take_ a foreign language?” Puck asks. 

“I bet if I do bad enough on the tests, they’ll _make_ me take Spanish!”

“Pretend it’s a game,” Kurt says. “I don’t think we took computer–based tests _ever_ at McKinley.”

“Plus you get a Saturday off, and it’s not like they’re going to take you eight hours, right?” Puck says, shrugging. 

“God, do you think it might take me eight hours?” Finn asks. “It might take me eight hours. Oh, fuck, I’m gonna screw everything up before I ever actually make it to Wisconsin!”

“They’re timed, darling,” Kurt says calmly. “They won’t take you eight hours. They’re the equivalent of freshmen–level classes. _High school_ freshmen.”

“What if I run out of time? What if I get stuck in all the dumb people classes? What are Mom and Burt gonna say?” Finn sits down on the floor and rests his forehead on his knees. “I’m totally screwing this up, I know I am!”

“Dude, chill. You’re not going to get stuck in dumb people classes.” Puck snorts. “And simple. You don’t actually have to tell them anything now about your grades. Federal law or something.”

Finn looks up at Puck. “No? I don’t have to tell them?”

“It’s true,” Kurt confirms. “Marymount sent something about signing a waiver if I wanted to allow them access, but unless you authorize it, then no. Just read before you sign anything, obviously, as you should anyway.”

“I don’t have to tell them,” Finn repeats. He nods to himself. They’ll probably _expect_ to see his grades, but he doesn’t have to show them. They aren’t paying for school, so what are they gonna do if he says no? “Ok. Ok, cool. I don’t have to tell them. I can just go and take the test, and they don’t have to know, right?”

“Exactly.”

“Pretty much.” 

“So… do you think I’m allowed to bring a snack?”

 

“I feel like I should be filming this,” Artie says. He tips his chair back and forward nervously, and Lauren shakes her head.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what you always say,” Lauren says. She winks at Puck and repeats, “Always.”

Kurt presses his lips together, watching Puck snort and shake his head. “Just a few more minutes, though, right?” Mike says to Artie. “Until the house opens, I mean.”

“I’m so excited,” Tina gushes. “Look at how many people are here! I think it’s everyone that came to even one PFLAG meeting.”

“Are you going to distribute it after this?” Kurt asks Artie. 

“We’re going to self–distribute. We’d like to get it into a few more festivals,” Artie explains. 

“There’s a few out in California we’re gonna hit,” Lauren says. 

“Cool,” Puck says, nodding. “So how much do I have to pony up to be able to prove to people outside Lima that I really do know all of you?”

“Twenty-seven fifty,” Lauren says. “But we’ll ship it to you for another two-fifty.”

“What if we drive to pick it up in person?” Puck says wryly. 

“Twenty-seven fifty,” Lauren says. “The autograph’s free.”

Finn starts laughing, and Puck whacks him on the shoulder. “You never know,” Kurt says. “It could be worth something one of these days.”

Lauren gives Finn and Puck a calculating look, then turns back to Kurt. “Oh, I guarantee it will be.”

“Maybe we should all get two, then,” Tina says, grinning. “Ooh, look! Doors are opening!”

Finn drapes his arms across Kurt and Puck’s shoulders. “Let’s run in fast and get good seats and make the PFLAG people still stuck at McKinley sit in the back,” he whispers to Kurt.

“You’re awful, darling,” Kurt laughs. “But yes, let’s get good seats now.” The three of them walk in, close behind Artie, Lauren, Mike, and Tina, and Kurt can hear Rachel talking to Quinn and Mercedes not too far behind them. Or they could be farther away, and Rachel’s voice could be carrying, like it usually does. 

“You know, not everybody’s dressed as nice as us,” Finn says. “They’re all wearing jeans and whatever. I should’ve worn my Pride shirt.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “And we all three look very nice. Considering there’s footage of us in the documentary, it’s good that we’re not in jeans.”

“We look good in jeans,” Finn argues. “Especially you.”

“And yet we always find a way to get them off of him,” Puck murmurs as they come to a row and slide in to find a seat. 

Finn shrugs. “I’m good at unwrapping.”

“I did think that perhaps this was an overdone topic,” a voice says across the aisle. “But interestingly, it appears to be shot and produced by the students themselves. Not some adult who fancies him or herself a director and is using the subject matter just to get exposure.”

“A student film?” a woman replies. “Oh, that is nice. Remember that awful faux-documentary we saw in Illinois? Those poor children, being used like that by their history teacher.”

“Do you hear that?” Artie hisses at Lauren. “Sweeeet. They’re talking about us.”

“Yeah, hopefully the hipsters enjoy our hard work,” Lauren says, sounding unimpressed. “Probably don’t have enough black and white segments. But hey, maybe they’ll Instagram a shot of our poster or something.”

“Hipster–famous!” Artie says. “So, you know how much a hipster weighs?” Lauren raises her eyebrows. “An Instagram!”

Lauren snorts and shakes her head. “Your creative genius, folks.”

“We should take bets now on how many hipsters are in our classes,” Kurt comments. “Percentage-wise, I mean. Or orientation group or whatever.”

“Mannes’ll either be one hundred percent hipster or close to zero,” Puck says. “I’m betting close to zero, though.”

“I’m not even really sure what a hipster is,” Finn confesses. “Something about hats and glasses. And plaid shirts, which, I thought those were supposed to be all tragically Midwestern, so.” He shrugs.

“Apparently if you aren’t in the Midwest, they’re suddenly ironic,” Kurt says, shaking his head. He cranes his neck, looking around the room. “It’s really filling up in here.”

“How many films here are actually made in Lima?” Puck asks, leaning forward slightly, probably so Artie and Lauren can hear him as well. 

“Including ours? Big fat _two_ films,” Lauren says. “The rest is mostly international crap.”

“It says that there’s an award for Outstanding Student Film,” Kurt says, paging through the event guide. “Do you get a statuette?”

“Plaque, I think,” Artie says. “But it’s a big one.”

“Either way, a nice dorm decoration,” Kurt says, nodding. 

“Attention!” Someone steps up to the front of the room with a microphone in hand. “If you would please fill in your rows, to allow everyone to find a seat.”

As the auditorium continues to fill, a voice from the back shouts, “Team Soups!” and Finn pumps his fist in the air silently in response. 

“Did they tell you two if it sold out?” Puck asks. 

“They didn’t have to,” Artie says, grinning. 

“I heard someone outside bitching that she couldn’t get a ticket,” Lauren adds.

Another five minutes pass before the doors close and the lights dim, and the same person takes the microphone. “Welcome to the last of our student films. After this presentation, there will be a ‘Meet and Greet’ Q&A in the next room over with all of our student filmmakers. This particular film is a documentary produced right here in Lima, Ohio. So, let’s get this going. Ladies and gentlemen, _Alphabet Soup_.”

Kurt isn’t sure what to expect, despite being at the school board meetings and being interviewed more than once. Artie and Lauren tell the story in more or less chronological fashion, however, splicing interviews with the footage of the first meeting and summarizing events that don’t appear on camera. 

When they come to the interview Kurt did after the second meeting, however, he bites his lip and looks at Finn and then Puck. When Kurt realizes that Artie’s not really edited the interview, and the Kurt on screen says “No one’s going to see this for a month or two, right?”, Kurt looks to the side at Finn again. 

Finn frowns, and his hand rests on Kurt’s thigh. Finn squeezes Kurt’s leg gently, but keeps his attention on the screen. Kurt on the screen starts talking about increased risk and the potential for a ‘last stand’, and Finn’s frown turns into a glower, his grip on Kurt’s leg tightening slightly. Kurt winces when off-screen Artie asks how bad things might get, because he remembers his answer. 

“There are several factors at work. How much interest does the media continue to take? Further stories will keep it in the forefront of everyone’s mind. How good or bad McKinley’s sports and other teams do. The response that some students have to this is going to be ‘retreat further into the closet’ and others are going to want to come out in response. How many decide on the latter option will affect the climate at school as well. We could get through it smoothly. Or we could have a perfect storm.”

Puck squeezes Kurt’s hand, tracing his thumb over Kurt’s palm, and when Kurt looks over at him, he looks almost amused. When Kurt turns back towards Finn, though, his eyebrows are knit together and his mouth is in a thin line, staring at the screen still. 

Kurt admits to himself that the documentary is exceeding his expectations. He lived the story, but Artie and Lauren manage to present it as a coherent narrative, using excerpts sometimes and entire speeches and interviews at others. Part of Casey’s speech is edited, when he names names. There’s blurry, dark footage of the media interviews, after the April meeting, which they use as a backdrop for expository text. 

It finishes with the ‘credits’, taken mostly from the last day of school, when nearly everyone chose a letter or two and held them up for the camera. Underneath, Lauren and Artie added names before the screen fades to black and the technical credits, music playing in the background. There’s a moment of silence before the applause starts, loud and strong, and within thirty seconds or so, the majority of the room is on their feet. Kurt looks in front of him at Artie, who looks overwhelmed, and Lauren, who just looks smugly pleased.

It takes several minutes for the applause to die down and the crowd to make their way from the room to the room across the hall, where there are several other students up in front, alongside Lauren and Artie. One of the film festival officials introduces all of them and names their films, and then proceeds to take questions from the room for any or all of them. Kurt pays more attention to the fact that Finn seems to be upset about something, sulking slightly. Kurt squeezes Puck’s hand and tilts his head towards Finn questioningly, and Puck shrugs in response. 

When the Q&A is over, the three of them leave the civic center to find the Nav again, since the Awards Gala is apparently for filmmakers and a limited number of VIPs, which means in actuality the people who had the money to pay handsomely for the privilege. The three of them are relatively subdued on the ride home, Kurt thinks, and he’s somewhat grateful that his dad and Carole aren’t there to ask them questions about how it was and what the audience was like and all of that. 

Puck grabs them each a beer from the refrigerator, and Kurt gets out a jar of salsa and a bag of chips, sinking down into his chair. “Well. They did a good job.”

“Yeah, they did,” Puck agrees. “I can’t think of anything really important that got left out.”

“You threw a pop in my face,” Finn says softly.

“That’s a beer, darling,” Kurt says. “And it’s not on your face.” He tilts his head. “The salsa’s the hot one that you like.”

“You threw a pop in my face, and you told me I was paranoid, and you told me nobody was going to get hurt that badly,” Finn continues, not even acknowledging Kurt’s words. “And you told me I wasn’t allowed to watch people’s backs, and to stop trying to protect you… and then you give _that_ interview.”

Kurt sighs. “Yes. I did. Nearly a month later. I was… I had my reasons, for saying those things in the interview, for the future, and not in that moment.”

“You acted like I was being crazy to worry about you,” Finn says, sounding eerily calm. “And you never told me any different.”

“I know you probably won’t believe me, but I wasn’t particularly worried for myself, per se. I _was_ more concerned about Taylor, and Casey, and the other underclassmen.” Kurt tilts his head, considering. “Would you really have worried any more or less if you’d had that information at the time?” 

“It would have been nice to know that I wasn’t really being paranoid!” Finn bursts out. “And I get it, you weren’t worried about you, but _I_ was fucking worried about you! I got into a fistfight with a douchebag in the middle of class about you! Anything could’ve happened while I was telling myself ‘oh, Kurt says not to freak out, Kurt says I’m being paranoid’.”

Kurt draws back a little. “I didn’t ask you to do that, you know! And the same things could have happened if you were telling yourself you weren’t paranoid. I didn’t— I wanted to make sure you _didn’t_ freak out and worry too much.”

“I don’t worry too much! And I know you didn’t ask me to do that, I did it on my own, because I love you and I _try_ to look out for you!”

“I didn’t say you—” Kurt cuts himself off and sighs. “Look. Yes. I was more concerned that I let on to _anyone_ except for that interview. I didn’t see what advantage there was to more people being even more concerned than they already were.”

“How about because I love you?” Finn is nearly shouting now. “I love you and you should be able to tell things to people who love you, instead of just… bottling it up and then maybe somebody sees an interview about it later!”

“I do bottle things up,” Kurt acknowledges. “It’s not a reflection on you—on either of you—in any way.” Kurt lowers his voice, speaking softly. “I am sorry you saw it at the same time as everyone else. I should have mentioned it beforehand.”

“Did Puck know?” Finn asks suddenly. “Did he know you felt like that? Did you talk about it with _him_?”

“We argued about the coming out thing,” Puck answers, speaking up for the first time. 

“Yes. You overheard part of that, actually, Finn, remember?”

“I didn’t know it was because you were that worried about all of this,” Finn says. “I thought it was just Puck and coming out and it not being a good time, maybe.”

“But no, I didn’t really talk to anyone about it. To be honest, part of me was afraid of being overheard. As if by talking about it too much, it gave it more credence.” He shrugs. “Silly, I know.”

“I’d rather have you talk about me like I’m not here than _not_ talk to me when I am here,” Finn says. 

“It’s not—” Kurt sighs again. “As I said, I should have at least mentioned the interview to you before today, but to be honest, I had forgotten about it.”

“Well, that was a shitty way to find out,” Finn says. He crosses his arms and slumps down in his seat. 

Kurt shrugs. “Probably. It wasn’t intentional, though.”

“I love you. I worry about you. _Both_ of you,” Finn says quietly. “I worry about not knowing stuff I’m supposed to know.”

“I know. We love you, too.” Kurt drums his fingers on the table. “And luckily, all of that is, in fact, behind us.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so,” Finn says. He slides down lower in his seat, arms still crossed. 

“Lucky for us, anyway,” Kurt amends. “Despite the fact things should be changing, I still don’t envy those with one or more years left on their sentence.”

Finn shrugs. “Better them than us.” He picks up the beer Puck set down for him and takes a sip. 

Puck snorts. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“Well.” Kurt reaches out and puts his hand over Finn’s. “Other than that, darling. It was well-done.”

“Yeah. It was,” Finn says. “It was good. He put in the part where I didn’t get the letter and you made me go back. That was pretty funny.”

“Yes.” Kurt’s not actually sure how he feels about the way that was edited—his original intent behind having Finn pick a letter if he was going to bother seems a little skewed, now—but he supposes he can understand why Artie and Lauren chose to do it that way. “Our film debuts, as it were.”

“I’m surprised Rachel wasn’t protesting not having a larger role, when you put it that way,” Puck laughs. 

“She probably thinks it should have been called _My Two Gay Dads_ ,” Finn says.

Kurt and Puck both laugh. “I’m sure,” Kurt agrees. “Probably with a gold star in place of the ‘o’, or maybe the ‘a’s.”

“I’m sure she’ll figure out a way to get that made eventually,” Finn sighs. “But I am _so_ not going to the premiere of that.”

 

“Well, holy shit! Puckerman!”

Puck stops just outside the hospital lobby doors and turns to the side. “Azimio?” he asks, because the guy standing in front of him sounds like Azimio and vaguely looks like Azimio, but weighs a hell of a lot less than Azimio Adams did a year ago, which is the last time Puck saw him.

“Self-same! You a coffee–seller now?” Azimio asks him.

“Is that a euphemism?” Puck asks. “Or… Oh.” He looks down and snorts. “Yeah, I work at Starbucks.”

“That’s cool. Yeah, I’m home on leave for a week or so. Dave’s already gone off to his football college, so there’s really not all that much to do in Lima,” Azimio says, shaking his head. “I swear, I remember shit being more interesting around here than it is.”

Puck laughs. “No, it’s really not that interesting. At least you only have a week or so left, though, right?” He shrugs. “Yeah, there’s not a ton going on.”

“Alright, well, you off shift now?”

“Yeah, about to head home,” Puck answers. “You headed in there?” As soon as he says the sentence, he freezes slightly, because Casey’s still in there, and he’s pretty sure Casey and Az won’t realize who each other are.

“Yeah, not a lot of fancy–ass coffee in Afghanistan,” Az says. “Gotta spend too much money on frozen chocolate coffee–lottos while I can.”

“Right.” Puck nods and heads towards the Nav. “Good seeing you, Az.”

“Nice ride, Puckerman,” Az says, giving Puck a nod before he walks into the St. Rita’s lobby. Puck shakes his head and sets the drink carrier on the roof while he unlocks the door, then distributes them into the various cup holders. He doesn't always take iced coffee by the shop for Kurt and Finn, but he does most days. 

When he gets there, Kurt's in the front office, scowling at an invoice, and he sighs with relief. "You're a god, baby," he says, taking his long sip of his drink. "Dad's got Finn doing some air conditioning work, so I'll take it back there in a few."

Puck nods. "Guess who was walking in as I was leaving." He doesn't wait for a response before answering. "Azimio."

"Oh, lord." Kurt shakes his head. "Was he going into Starbucks?"

"Yep."

"That would have been interesting to witness." Kurt grins. "See you at home."

"Be good, blue eyes."

"I'm always good."

When Puck gets home, he pushes the thermostat down, and sits in front of the air vent in his underwear for a few minutes, opening up his laptop. There's a friend request from Azimio Adams, which makes Puck laugh. He's pretty sure the information he has public was a shock to Az. He accepts the request, comments a couple of times on Az's latest status, and then goes over to YouTube to see how many views Kurt's speech has by now, almost three months later. The answer is '43,782', which is pretty high. It'd probably be higher if the whole school board fight had gone on a little longer, but it's also probably good that the views aren't actually higher. 

Puck responds to an email from Allison, then shuts his laptop and wanders into the bathroom. If he showers now, there'll be plenty of hot water left for Kurt, and Puck can get dinner in the oven while Kurt's in the shower. 

Not bad for a Thursday in the middle of July. 

 

Puck's not entirely sure how it was all decided, but on the Friday before he and Kurt and Finn leave for Pensacola, the eleven of them still in town are expected to appear at Brittany's after dinner for a party. Sam's leaving on Sunday morning, and no one quite connected it at the time that Puck and Kurt's birthday party really was the last time all twelve of them would get together over the summer. Rachel's in London, and won't be back until after Sam's gone. 

After Finn's left, too, and barely before Kurt and Puck themselves leave. It's easier not to think about that, most of the time. 

Either way, by the time Puck, Kurt and Finn arrive at Brittany's house, Santana's already there with what looks like the contents of a small liquor store. Puck scoops up three bottles of beer and opens them, then hands one each to Kurt and Finn. “Cheers,” he says dryly. 

“Thank you, baby,” Kurt says, smiling. Without Rachel there, there’s no one who is absolutely insisting on karaoke, and Mike sets up their portable speaker with someone’s iPod sitting on the top. 

“You know,” Tina says to the room at large, “I keep thinking that one of these days, it’s going to really hit me that we’ve graduated, but I keep waiting for that sense of something having changed.”

“I still had to take a test,” Finn says. “So, I’m right there with you. Not too different yet.”

“Placement tests?” Sam asks. “Yeah, I have to take some of those next week. Probably similar. How’d they go?”

“Let’s just say it’s good I don’t have to take Spanish in college,” Finn says.

“I think it’s best for everyone that went through Mr. Schue’s classes not to have to take Spanish in college,” Kurt comments. 

Puck rolls his eyes. “What the dumbass isn’t saying is he placed out of some English kind of requirement.”

Finn shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

Kurt sighs. “One less class seems like a _good_ deal.”

“Yeah, I’d like to place out of English comp!” Sam says. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and place out of a math class or something.”

“I can’t place out of anything,” Mike says with a sigh. “Can you, Puck?” 

“Only if I remember contrapuntal dictation.” Puck shrugs and looks at Finn. “See? Big enough deal.”

“Is that something you’re even allowed to do in public, dude?” Finn asks. 

Puck smirks. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

Finn squints at Puck, looking confused, and shakes his head. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“Plenty of people aren’t sure if it’s good or bad, actually.” Puck grins. “You’re in good company.”

“I can’t believe we’re all going to be so spread across the country!” Tina says, sighing a little. “It doesn’t seem quite real. Are you packed and everything, Sam?”

Sam laughs. “Nah, that’s what tomorrow’s for.”

“I packed the first day of summer,” Brittany says. 

“Isn’t that a little difficult?” Mike asks. Santana glares at him, and he holds his hands up defensively. “It’s just a question!”

“I wasn’t sure when I leave,” Brittany explains. “I mean, I went there in June, but they made me come home, so, what if they want me to come back and my stuff isn’t ready?”

“Brittany, sweetie,” Quinn says gently. “That was orientation, remember?”

“No, it was Florida,” Brittany says. “I’m sure.”

Santana wraps her arm around Brittany’s waist. “Don’t worry, Britt-Britt, we’ll make sure you go at the right time.”

“It’s so quiet at this party,” Finn says, leaning back on Kurt’s legs from his spot on the floor and propping his elbow up on Puck’s knee. 

“I can’t imagine why,” Puck says blandly. Finn snickers and shakes his head.

“No, I know exactly why,” Finn whispers. 

“You three want more beer?” Sam asks, apparently not hearing Finn’s whispered commentary, because Puck’s pretty sure Sam would have laughed if he’d heard it. 

“No more for me,” Puck answers, because they flipped a coin and it’s his night not to drink more than one or two drinks. 

“Please,” Kurt says with a nod.

“Sure,” Finn says. “That’ll work.”

Sam comes back in just a moment with a beer each for Kurt and Finn, then goes back to where Mercedes is alternating between smiling almost too brightly and dabbing at her eyes. The party is that same weird mix between high and low, actually, at least for the first hour or so, until Tina stands in the middle of the room with a trayful of shot glasses. 

None of them are from anywhere interesting, though. 

“Everyone get a shot glass and sit in a circle! We’re going to play Never Have I Ever!” she declares. 

“Awesome!” Sam and Mike both say, claiming a shot glass each. 

“Why not?” Santana shrugs. 

“This seems like a remarkably bad idea,” Artie says, but he takes a shot glass anyway.

“Yes!” Finn grabs a shot glass. “If I’d known, I could have brought my own glass, though.”

“BYOG,” Puck jokes, taking a glass and one for Kurt as well. Everyone else finally grabs one and they sit in a circle, and then Tina looks at Sam. 

“Sam, you go first, and then we’ll go this way,” she adds, making a circular motion with her arm. “Everyone filled up and ready?”

After everyone nods, Sam grins. “Okay. So, um. Never have I ever skipped school?”

“Lame,” Santana proclaims, emptying her glass and setting it back down. “At this rate, we’ll have to do beer shots.” In fact, everyone except Sam and Artie drink, and Sam shrugs before looking at Mercedes. 

“Well. Never have I ever… cheated on a test?” she says uncertainly. A surprisingly high number of them don’t drink, but Finn and Puck both empty their glasses. 

“A drawing of a dinosaur definitely is an appropriate answer to a social studies test,” Puck announces. 

“So is ‘butt’,” Finn agrees. “That was the best test ever.”

“What did you do,” Kurt asks, sounding amused, “cheat off each other?”

“Yeah, but we figured it out like two or three questions in, so then we started writing all these crazy answers to mess each other up,” Finn says. “Puck started it. Anyway, it was like fourth or fifth grade, so it barely counts.”

“Fifth grade. Fourth grade was all colonists and shit.”

“Oh, yeah. Mrs. Eckles. She loved us,” Finn says. 

“As interesting as that is,” Quinn says, “never have I ever gotten an F in a class.”

“Are you people trying to get me drunk?” Puck half–complains as he, Sam, and Brittany all drink. “It was supposed to be K’s turn tonight.”

“Okay, okay, here’s one that you should be safe on,” Mike says, laughing. “I saw this online once. Never have I ever shaved my balls.”

“Mike! Ew! Gross!” Quinn squeals. Brittany gives Mike a look that would probably be considered appraising if it came from anyone else, then she tilts her head to the side, then she nods. Then she starts to drink her shot, before Santana catches her by the wrist.

“Brittany, you don’t have balls. I would know.”

“I know. I just wanted to drink my drink. That one upsets me,” Brittany says.

“Shit, dude,” Puck says to Mike. “That was a close one.” Mike shoots him a look like he’s not sure what Puck means, and Puck just grins. 

“Um… never have I ever hit a homerun,” Tina says, looking around at all of them. 

“Second grade P.E.,” Kurt says smugly, picking up his glass. 

“And I bet Burt said ‘That’s my boy!’ when he found out, too,” Finn says, not drinking his shot.

Puck drinks his. “Not since I was nine, but.”

“Yeah, yeah, the ‘pitching changed’,” Santana says, rolling her eyes. “Never have I ever fallen asleep and had someone write on me in Sharpie.”

“Seriously,” Puck sighs, downing his shot.

Finn drinks his shot, too. “Puck drew a Hitler mustache on me once. My mom was pissed.”

“Your mom was pissed about a lot of things.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam says. “Santana drew on me last year.” He rolls his eyes at her and drinks. 

“Never have I ever been a zombie,” Brittany declares. Everyone looks around at each other, until Finn finally leans over and shoves Puck’s leg.

“Dude, you were totally self-IDing as a zombie back in March,” Finn says. “I think that means you have to drink.”

“This is a conspiracy,” Puck sighs. “Are you trying to make me pass out?” He empties the glass, though, and next to him, Kurt does as well. “Okay. Never have I ever peed on a bush.”

“Did so!” Finn insists.

“Nope. Trees, yes. Grass, yes. The neighbor’s garden? Definitely. No bushes, though.”

“Asshole,” Finn mutters and drinks his shot.

“Mmmhmm.” Puck grins. “Your turn, K.”

“Sorry, baby,” he says, smirking. “Never have I ever shaved my head.”

“K!” Puck laughs. “I am seriously going to have to change to beer or something.”

“Don’t get alcohol poisoning,” Quinn says. “That would be a bad way to wrap up the summer.”

Sam gets up and grabs a beer, laughing as he hands it to Puck. “Clearly you’ve had an interesting life, man.”

“Never have I ever, uh…” Finn scrunches up his eyebrows. “Played strip poker!”

“Well, that is a shame,” Kurt mutters under his breath when all three of their glasses stay untouched. 

Over the rest of that round and the next, they learn that Artie has never danced a tango (but Brittany and Mike have) or set anyone’s property on fire (Puck, Kurt, and Quinn, all for different reasons), that Sam has never hung around outside a convenience store trying to get someone to buy him alcohol (Puck again), that Mercedes has never been in handcuffs (Brittany and Santana drink; Puck, too, and he glares at Mercedes as he tips up his beer), and Quinn has never put someone in handcuffs (Brittany and Santana drink again). Mike’s never dumped someone (most of them drink), Tina has never had sex in a bounce house (only Brittany drinks) but wishes she had, and Santana has never to her knowledge been photographed naked.

At that point, Puck, Kurt, and Tina all drink, and Santana raises her eyebrows at Puck and Kurt. “Wanky.”

Brittany manages to score them all a drink–free round by having never paid the retainer for her cat’s lawyer, and Puck having never been caught sneaking out (only Mike has), Kurt never having dated anyone older (everyone but Kurt and Mike drink), and Finn never having swallowed a penny (Brittany has… twice) are actually pretty boring by comparison. 

Sam must be bored, too, because when it’s his turn for the third time, he grins really widely. “Never have I ever had a threesome!”

Mercedes starts to slap his arm, then freezes, watching seven of them all drink: Brittany, Santana, Mike, Tina, Puck, Kurt, and Finn. “What?”

“Safety in numbers,” Finn says, with a carefully composed serious face. 

“What kind of glee club _is_ this!” Sam says, looking almost stunned. “Who? What?”

“Sexy glee club,” Brittany answers, nodding her head slowly. 

“Okay, okay,” Mercedes says. “Okay. Never have I ever had a threesome _with Santana_.” She looks expectantly around the circle, but Brittany’s the only one that moves. 

“What? I don’t have to drink if it’s my own name,” Santana says. 

“Pussy,” Puck says. “Drink it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah, neither one of us would enjoy that much.”

Santana rolls her eyes but drinks her shot, then looks at Quinn. Quinn grins back a little too widely and says, “Never have I ever had a threesome with _Brittany_!”

This time, four people start to drink, and Santana stares at Mike and Tina. “Holy sh— what the— when?”

“Last year,” Tina answers, sounding almost too casual. “After Brittany broke up with Artie.”

“Go Mike!” Sam whoops drunkenly, and this time Mercedes does slap him. 

Mike just grins. “Never have I ever… driven a stick shift.”

“Lame,” Santana pronounces, but Puck has to take another drink. “C’mon, Tina. Let’s get back to the important stuff.”

Tina giggles, her cheeks a little too pink, and she looks over at Kurt, giggling more. Kurt tilts his head and raises his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth turning up. “Okay!” Tina grins. “Never have I ever, sadly, had a threesome with Kurt Hummel.”

Finn tosses back his shot at the same time as Puck and Kurt, which makes most of the room stare at him, their mouths hanging open. Tina just giggles more, though, and Mike looks unconcerned. Santana seems almost smug, though Puck can’t really figure out why. 

“Dude,” Artie says, finally. “She said _Kurt_.”

Finn looks slightly confused and shakes his head slightly. “Yeah. I heard her.”

Kurt starts to laugh. “You’ve broken them.”

“Wait, like, are you gay?” Sam asks, staring like some kind of befuddled puppy who can’t figure out where the food bowl is. 

Finn’s eyebrows squish together and he squints at Sam. “Huh?”

“I am so confused,” Mercedes says. “Or drunk. Or both.” She turns to Quinn. “Am I confused?”

“ _I’m_ confused,” Quinn confesses. “But I think Finn’s saying he had a threesome with Kurt. That’s… what he’s saying, isn’t it?”

“I drank my shot!” Finn declares, holding up his empty shot glass. “Must be true!”

“Hey. I was there, too,” Puck grumbles. “It was a nice hickey, too.”

“Oh, yeah, I should get another shot for Puck being there,” Finn says. “And Puck should, too. And probably Kurt. Probably all three of us.”

Puck laughs. “Should we have three?”

“Three times three,” Kurt offers, before dissolving into laughter.

“It was a _very_ nice hickey,” Finn says. 

Mercedes gasps. “Those cougars!”

“Wellllll. They are older,” Finn enunciates carefully, and then _he_ starts to giggle. “Very, very older.”

“I think,” Kurt says slowly. “We are all drunk. Very drunk. And if you would like to watch me have sex, I’m going right over there.” He points to a corner and beams at Puck. “Okay?”

“I think there’d be even more naked pictures of us then.” Puck laughs. “We’ll let your dad see these, since my mom saw the others.”

“Sam, make them stop!” Mercedes says, one hand over her eyes. “I do not need to see that many naked men in one place.”

“How many of them are getting naked right now?” Quinn asks. “Who’s going to the corner with Kurt?”

“We’ll go!” Tina squeals. “Everyone to the corner!”

“Puck, you should help me up, on account of how I’m possibly very drunk,” Finn says, trying and failing to push himself onto his feet. He wraps one arm around Puck’s leg instead.

“Guys.” Brittany’s voice cuts through the giggles. “My mom says I’m not allowed to host orgies anymore.”

Kurt frowns. “Then I’m going to go to sleep. Finn, let me use you as a pillow.”

“Ok, bossofme,” Finn mumbles. He holds his arm out in Kurt’s direction and waves him over. “And you should be floorpeople with us,” he says to Puck, pulling on his leg.

Kurt flops his head on Finn’s stomach, and Puck leans against Finn’s chest, more or less lying down, and Kurt sighs forlornly. “I really wanted to have sex, though,” he announces to the room at large. 

“Shhhh,” Finn hisses at Kurt. “Mercedes’ll go to sleep eventually.”


End file.
